Cirque Du Freak: The Saga of Darcy Shane
by HarmonyB
Summary: What if Darren Shan was a girl, Darcy Shane? What if her best friend, Steve, was obsessively in love with her? What if she grew to love the man that made her a monster? Darcy/Crepsley
1. A Living Nightmare: Chapter One

**Book 1**

_**CIRQUE DU FREAK**_

**THE SAGA OF DARCY SHANE**

**A LIVING NIGHTMARE**

**

* * *

**"What if you could live forever, what would you live for?"

Darcy Shane read and reread this sentence over and over. The book she was holding in her hands was about passionate vampire romance, so the answer to the question had to be love, right? She had never really been in love before, not the real kind where you go weak at the knees at the sight of the person, or when you kiss there are so many butterflies in your stomach you feel like you're going to throw up. Nope, she's never felt that. Actually, she bet few young teenage girls _have_ felt that.

_Hm_, she thought, flipping the book in her hands around to view the cover. _Maybe _that's_ why these books are so popular_. She opened to the front page, settled into her library seat, and began reading.

Suddenly her view of the page was obscured by a large picture of Nosferatu. Usually the sight of the frighteningly ugly vampire would scare a girl like her, but on the other hand, she wasn't like the other girls at Mettlesome High school. She looked up from her vampire romance, and Nosferatu, into the light brown eyes of her best friend, Steve Leonard. He had snuck up behind her and shoved the Nosferatu book under her nose.

"Forget that romance crap," Steve said, and he waved the book in his hand in her face, "Read some real vampire stories."

She took the book from him with a small smile, and he sat down in the library seat next to her.

"If these books are 'crap,' then why are they so popular?" Darcy asked.

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me," he sneered at the book she was reading, "I mean, come on, everybody knows vampires aren't inhumanly attractive. They're butt ugly is what they are."

Darcy rolled her eyes, _here we go, _she thought.

"But they're amazing, and evil, and creatures of the night, and man, would I give anything to be that cool." He gave her a familiar wicked smile. "If I was one, I'd stalk you during the night, sneak through your window, and _bite you_!" He jumped at her then, wrapping his arms around her and forcing his lips on her neck.

Darcy laughted, but pushed him away, smoothing back her long dark brown hair. He always got excited like this, Steve. Ever since they met in elementary school he had been very hyper and extremely bad tempered. She was afraid of him, like everybody else, but in elementary school, Steve had protected her from all the others teasing; if anybody gave her trouble, Steve would punch their lights out without hesitation. Darcy's mom warned her about boys like Steve, that they were dangerous and controlling, and to stay away from them. But Steve was her best friend, her protector. They were inseparable.

Apart from being complete opposites, she being mellow and down to earth and Steve being hell raiser, they had quite a few things in common. For one thing, both he and she loved everything paranormal and classically scary. While most fourteen year old girls were shopping in packs at the mall, she was with Steve reading up on the latest issue of _Dracula's Revenge _at the comic store, or sneaking into the latest R rated scary movie. They loved getting scared; it was their kind of fun. Though Darcy did get a little nervous they might get in trouble for going to R rated movies, Steve would always reply, "Hey, getting a kick of adrenaline from scary movies is safer than getting the high from drugs, right? So we're just doing what our parents would want, so relax!"

So Darcy does what she always does and lets Steve take control. That's just how Steve is, over-controlling; it's not like she could change him, so why bother trying, right?

It had started as any other day. They were meeting in Mettlesome library before school started to talk about what plans they could make for the weekend. Ever since they met in elementary school they would spend the night at each other's house during the weekend. Mom and Dad were okay with it for the first nine years, all the way through middle school, but every since they started high school, her parents have been more hesitant to let them sleep over together. "It's not appropriate," her mom would complain. This gave Steve and Darcy a real kick. How is it not appropriate? It's not like they sleep together in the same bed or anything.

_But then again_, Darcy thought as she watched Steve flip through a pile of Monster Myth books, _Steve has been acting different since they started high school_. Before high school, Steve had treated her like one of the guys, like a buddy; but now it was like he moved his hands in such a way they made as much contact with Darcy's body as possible. If she let him touch her, he wouldn't stop, but if she pushed him away, he only forced his way back, like a boomerang.

Again, it was just another one of those things Darcy was learning to let pass.

"So," Steve said, keeping his eyes on the page in front of him, "you wanna meet this weekend, I don't know, hang out and stuff."

"You mean as usual," Darcy replied.

"You know what I mean," he said, his eyes reproachful. "I've been hearing rumors around, there's some night club opening just for this weekend at the old theater downtown. It's eighteen and up, but we could find our way in."

"A night club," Darcy wondered, "If it's downtown at night, wouldn't that be kind of dangerous?"

"Really, Darcy," Steve scoffed at her, giving her a dark look, "Do I look like an idiot? Do you really think I'm gonna let some creep mess you up?"

Darcy shrugged, not wanting to argue a losing fight with Steve.

"Listen," Steve growled, making her eyes flash back to his, "I think I can get my hands on one of the flyers for this thing. We check it out, and see what we think, alright?"

"I'd be happy just seeing a movie, but," Darcy hinted, but was stopped cold by a look from Steve, "I guess we could check it out."

"Good," he replied happily, seeming to have settled back into normal Steve and less of the Incredible Hulk.

* * *

"Hey . . . psst, hey Darcy," a mousy girl named Alana whispered a couple desks down from Darcy's.

Darcy looked over at her friend when their Social Studies teacher wasn't looking, and Alana flicked a folded up piece of notebook paper that landed square on Darcy's textbook. She quickly grabbed it and unfolded it under the privacy of her desk.

She read:

_Hey D, what's up? Do you get number three on the homework, I'm not a genius when it comes to Imperialism, actually I'm not a genius period . . . anyway, HAVE YOU HEARD! Steve and Tommy found some freakish night club opening for the weekend. It sounds so creepy, like, the club is sponsored by some freak show that travels around the world. I forgot what it was called, something Du Freak, its French or something. I really really really times ten want to go. Tommy asked me to go with him *wink wink* I think he has a crush on me. So did Steve ask you to the night club, we could go double dating, ohmygosh, it would be SO fun! Anyways, we're meeting the boys after school, so see you there. G2g, Love Alana_.

A freak show. Darcy thought that sounded amazingly scary. She knew freak shows were banned from most parts of the U.S. because of cruelty issues with the people and animals employed. But a dance sponsored by a freak show couldn't be too bad, right?

* * *

Darcy found the others after school in the Mettlesome courtyard. Tall, lean Tommy Jones stood with his back to a tree, looking as cool and handsome as ever; Alana leaned next to him, fixing her light brown hair and casting glances in Tommy's direction every now and then. Steve paced in the grass, grasping a light green piece of paper in his hands. When he looked up and saw Darcy approach, his face exploded with excitement.

"I got it!" He shouted, "I got the flyer! Take a look!" He ran over to her the rest of the way and shoved the paper into her hands.

The green flyer was bordered in fearsome looking figures of wolves with sharp teeth, and spider's long legs stretching across the page. On the flyer it read:

**CIRQUE DU FREAK **

**NIGHT CLUB**

**ONE WEEK ONLY**

**SEE THE WORLD'S FREAKIEST LIVING BEINGS**

**INCLUDING: EVRA VAN "SNAKE BOY," THE WOLF-MAN, THE TWISTING TWINS, THE BEARDED LADY, LARTEN CREPSLEY AND HIS PERFORMING SPIDER MADAM OCTA**

**AND MORE!**

**SEE THEM ALL WHILE ENJOYING THE NEWEST MUSIC SCENE**

**WARNING: 18 AND OLDER, NOT FOR THE TIMOROUS AND COWARDLY**

"Doesn't it sound amazing?" Steve asked, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

"It sounds . . . frightening," Darcy replied with a small smile.

"I heard it's so illegal the freak show night club never comes to the same town twice," Alana remarked.

Steve's eyes sparkled, "We're going."

"But how do you get into a thing like this?" Darcy asked, handing the fearsome flyer back to Steve. "Obviously not just anyone can go, there's got to be some kind of ticket or list, or something."

"It says here," Steve pointed to the bottom of the flyer, "that we have to bring this flyer to the old theater where it's held, and, I don't know, maybe this paper is our ticket in." He looked up at the others with a shrug.

"How did you get this flyer anyway?" Darcy asked, raising a dark brown eyebrow at him.

He gave her a wicked smile that made her stomach flip. "I've got connections."

Darcy groaned. She knew Steve occasionally hung out with the wrong crowd downtown, an older, tougher group. It started when he was just looking for the black market comics, the really dark stuff that they don't sell in stores. Since then he's always went to these older guys for 'stuff.' Darcy wasn't completely sure, but a part of her worried Steve was getting into the wrong kind of 'stuff' off these guys.

"And are these 'connections' going to be there at the freak show night club?" Darcy asked angrily.

"Maybe," Steve asked, his wicked smile turning to a sneer, "So what if they come, anyway, they're cool."

"Whatever," Darcy rolled her eyes, ending the subject.

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a lesson he learned in Anger Management classes, and then he was back to normal. "Today's Wednesday, we've got two days before this weekend, and we are going. There's no way we're going to miss this."

"I think it sounds fun," Alana piped up, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Are you excited Tommy?"

Tommy Jones shrugged, "Just as long as there's music and dancing I'm good; I don't really care much about the freak thing."

"Well," Steve began. He stepped up to Darcy and grabbed her hand, weaving his fingers through hers, "Darcy and I are going for the scare; these creepy freaks are gonna blow our minds."

Darcy gave him a half-smile to show him her excitement, but she swallowed to keep from revealing her nerves.


	2. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Two

For the very first time in all her fourteen years, Darcy Shane went girl on girl shopping at the mall. She and Alana wanted to look for new dresses to wear at the night club that weekend. _Of course_, she told her parents she was looking for a new dress for a school dance, and _of course_, her sister, Annie, wanted to come along. But if Annie did come shopping with them and she or Alana slipped anything about the night club, Annie would undoubtedly tell Mom and Dad.

After what felt like long hours, Darcy found a blood-red sleeveless dress that reached above her knees. When she tried it on Alana said she looked like an older woman in it. With a small smile Darcy had stared at herself in the changing mirror, admiring this new womanly look with her long dark brown hair cascading down her back and blue eyes bright with wonder. She imagined herself moving to the music that was going to be played this weekend, and she was satisfied how the fabric swayed and stretched on her hips. _Maybe_, she thought, _just maybe this weekend will be the best night of her life_.

* * *

This was what Darcy's parents believed she was doing on Friday night: After school she was going to come home and pack some things to take over to Alana's where she was going to spend the night. She and Alana were going to see a movie and get dinner at the mall, and then come home and stay up late. The next day, sometime in the afternoon, she was going to come back home. Safe, simple, only partly a lie.

Really, on Friday night, she was going to go to Alana's to spend the night, but what Darcy failed to mention was Alana's parents were out of town, and the girls were free to stay home and get ready for the Cirque Du Freak night club. At nine o'clock the boys were going to stop by and all of them were to ride their bikes to the old theater. Depending on how everything went, they were going to stay until past midnight and come home whenever they got tired. Darcy would be home the next day just as her parents thought. Full-proof.

Only everything is never quite that easy. When Darcy's parents offered to drive her over to Alana's house, Darcy prayed fervently Mom and Dad wouldn't notice Alana's parent's car was gone. Miraculously, no questions were asked, and Darcy was free. Alana squealed when she opened the door to greet Darcy, she was already clothed in her baby blue cocktail dress. She had no idea what she was doing when it came to the make-up bit, but Alana was glad to help. Darcy had more fun than she expected working on hair, and she hoped one day Annie came to her for help on hair and make-up.

It was only eight-thirty when she was all finished getting ready, so she grabbed a book in her pack on Monster Myth's from the library. She flipped past the Loch Ness monster and stopped on werewolf. Didn't the flyer for the freak show say there was a wolf-man in the Cirque? She wondered if he was an actual werewolf, and she reread important facts on how to kill a werewolf, just in case. Next chapter was on vampires. The pictures in the book showed none of the beautiful creatures she has seen in the movies. They didn't sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight; they melted and died. "_Vampires, or vampyrs, are soulless creatures of the night that feed on the blood of humans, and are extremely difficult to kill_." Darcy read. She felt a tinge of pity. _Any creature without a soul must be very sad and lonely_, she thought. She shivered at the thought of being bit by something and having her soul sucked clean dry out of her veins. What would be the reason for living after that?

The doorbell rang and Darcy snapped the book closed. The girls met Steve and Tommy at the front door while slipping on their coats; it was an unusually chilly autumn evening tonight. As they stepped out into the dusk of night, Darcy caught Steve's eye. He had been staring her since they arrived. His brown eyes took in every inch of her body with a hunger Darcy was unused to, and she eventually wrapped her arms around herself in discomfort.

"You look really hot, Darcy," Steve muttered, taking a step towards her.

"Thanks," she replied, a crimson blush creeping into her cheeks. He moved to wrap an arm around her, but she stepped away, "Alright, guys, you ready to party!"

Everyone gave a shout and made their way quickly to their bikes, and soon they moved through the shadows, swallowed up in the darkness of the night.

It was a longer ride than they thought, and they were panting like mad when they eventually got there. The old theater used to show movies; Darcy passed it once or twice in the past. Steve told her once that it was shut down because a boy fell off the balcony and died. He said it was haunted. She asked Dad about it the other day, and he said it was all lies. It's hard to know whether to believe the stories Dad's tell or the ones best friend's tell.

From outside the old theater Darcy and the others saw no sign of life: no people, no lines, no cars, and no lights. As they parked their bikes down one alleyway, they looked up at the looming building with gray jagged rocks sticking up from the roof. Not even music could be heard.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Alana asked, and Darcy saw her shudder as she looked up at the theater.

"Yeah, I think," Steve said, taking out the flyer and rereading it, "yep, says so right here. Come on." He urged them on, and they walked to the front entrance, ignoring the many broken windows.

When Steve opened the door, it was as if a barrier was broken and loud music could be heard blasting from a room deep within the building.

"Yes, this is it!" Steve shouted and rushed inside.

_Wham!_

Steve grunted and fell back. It was as though he had collided with a stone wall, but as their eyes adjusted to the darkness they saw a tall figure standing before them. The girls gasped. A man that looked nearly seven to eight feet tall looked down his nose at them. Even Steve was speechless as Tommy helped him back to his feet.

The man looked every kid in the face with black beady eyes, and like a nightmare he smiled; his teeth were yellowed, decayed, and pointy. "Welcome," his voice boomed, making every one of them jump from their skins, "to the Cirque Du Freak's one week only night club. I am Mr. Tall." He held his arms open wide in greeting reminding Darcy very much of an overgrown bat. In a swift whip of his fingers, he held hand palm up to them, "Admission, please."

Tommy nudged Steve, whom shook away his fear and handed Mr. Tall the bright green flyer. With a wave of the hand the flyer was gone and he motioned Steve to move on through. Steve reached back and grabbed Darcy's hand so they moved together into the depths of the darkness.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Darcy heard Mr. Tall say in his deep voice and she and Steve turned to look. Mr. Tall held a long arm in front of Tommy and Alana keeping them from passing, "Only two people per flyer, no ticket, no admission."

Alana looked at Darcy and Steve and she shrugged her shoulders in uncertainty. But Darcy saw it in her eyes; Alana was relieved she didn't have to go in any further into the frightening theater. She spun on her heel sprinting away with Tommy in tow. Steve and Darcy exchanged glances.

"I guess it's just you and me," he said, a smile spreading on his lips, suggesting he liked this new change in plans.

"Maybe we should go back; I don't think we should do this without them-"

Mr. Tall's voice took her by surprise when he spoke into their ears, "The night club is just straight ahead, down that hallway. That's right."

Ignoring Darcy's complaints, Steve grasped her hand tighter and they started down the pitch black hallway that seemed to vacuum them in like a black hole in space. The music increased in sound every step they took until the bass from the speakers rumbled Darcy's heart in her ribcage. A single black cloth hung from the entrance to the club, and with a trembling hand Darcy reached out and pushed it aside.


	3. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Three

The young teenagers jaws dropped at the sight they were met with. The old theater was filled with people, every which one older and older in age, moving like one being to the pounding rhythm of the electric dance music emitting from man high speakers. Dark blue and white lights flashed and scanned across the sea of people. Various platforms throughout the theater stood like little islands in between the people. On one platform was something neither Darcy nor Steve had ever set their eyes on before, and they stared speechless.

A man covered in hair, with the mouth of a wolf was chained by the neck to the platform. He showed his teeth to all the onlookers and they could hear his growls over the blasting of the music.

"The wolf-man!" Darcy and Steve exclaimed at once and, with trembling legs, they rushed closer to the platform.

The part-wolf part-man snapped at them when they approached, but his chain was meant to be short to keep him from leaving his platform. On his hind legs the beast swayed to and fro with the beat of the music, and with shrieks of laughter they joined him at dancing to the music.

When the wolf-man's time to entertain had come to a close, two women appeared and guided him by chain into a door next to the stage. When he was gone Steve grabbed Darcy's hand and dragged her to the very middle of the dance floor. They were mobbed by arms and legs, it was stifling hot, and the music was beginning to make her head feel numb.

Darcy never had this much fun in her life.

The next platform on the other side of the theater was filled with two young women whom began contorting their bodies in disgusting manors, making it appear as though waves crashed through their bodies with each beat to the music. Darcy remembered from the flyer their names were the Twisting Twins, and apart from twisting, they added well known dance moves to their routine, gaining cheers from the crowd watching below.

After the Twins contorted off their platform, a woman in a tight-fitting dress followed on center stage at the front of the theater. Nothing seemed at all freakish about the exotic young woman, but as she began to dance about the stage like a belly dancer, every man's attention zoomed to her like magnets. Darcy looked over at Steve as he watched the woman dance; his jaw hung agape, with dreamy eyes.

Suddenly, one by one, people began noticing something different about the dancing woman. Every time she faced the crowd after spinning around, dark hairs grew on her chin, falling longer and longer in length. By the time one song was finished, the Bearded Lady's beard had grown all the way to the floor of the stage. Gasps, oh's, and ah's, filled the entire theater at this spectacle, and their admiration only increased when suddenly the beautiful woman's beard seemed to shrink. After a couple spins and twirls, the beard was gone, just as though she had sucked the hairs back into her skull.

The woman bowed off the stage followed by cheers of applause. Before disappearing behind the door next to the stage, hordes of men approached her begging for a dance, which she silently declined with a smile.

All the men shook away their dreamlike state, and everyone returned their attention to the dancing and music. Steve looked at Darcy in the flashing lights, staring at her as though just noticing her for the first time that night. He leaned closer to her, moving his body with hers to the flow of the music.

He shouted into her ear so as to be heard over the all the noise, "I really like your dress!"

She smiled up at him to let him know she heard, and she looked away to continue dancing. But Steve quickly reclaimed her attention again when he grabbed her elbow, not kindly, and forced her closer to him. She spun her eyes up to his, and he was staring at her fiercely, eyebrows knit together. By the sweat on his forehead, she knew this was taking him a lot of will and energy to do.

His lips were tight over his teeth when he spoke again, "I really like _you_, Darcy!"

She blinked, not knowing how to reply. She knew he liked her, but the vicious look in his eyes was unfamiliar; no guy has ever looked at her like that before. Just _how much _did Steve like her? Her mouth hung open silently, and then she closed it again. Steve watched her every movement like it was the most interesting sight in the world. He was beginning to frighten her, this was almost worse than when he gets angry with her.

The waving of dancing bodies moved in slow motion around them, and the music faded to a distance. Steve's eyes fell to her glossed lips, and in a rush, as though hardly able to wait another second, he moved his head closer to hers for a kiss.

As though she was pierced by a needle, Darcy jumped away from Steve. Her eyes were wide in shock. _Steve_, her thoughts screamed, _of all people to be the first to kiss me, my best friend. It's just so . . . just so wrong! _She quickly smiled to let him know everything was alright, and to perhaps delay his temper. The dancers returned to normal speed, and the music blasted her ears as though she resurfaced from under water. Steve frowned down at her, wondering what was wrong. Darcy linked arms with him and stood up on her tiptoes to speak into his ear.

"I'm really thirsty! Let's go find something to drink!" She moved away to look into his face, relieved when he nodded in agreement. Arm in arm they fought their way out of the mob of dancers and found a makeshift bar constructed off to the side of the theater. They squinted up at the menu in the dimness, not surprised to discover most of the drinks were alcoholic, but thankfully water bottles were being sold as well. Money in hand, Darcy told her orders to the bartenders whom she assumed to be a part of the Cirque Du Freak. They were little people, their heads hardly reaching the counter, in long blue robes that covered every inch of their petite bodies. Darcy smiled in thanks when she was wordlessly handed some water, though she wasn't sure whether a smile was returned because their faces were obscured in shadow beneath blue hoods from their cloaks. Darcy handed Steve a bottle and they greedily drank the iced cold water.

With a content sigh, Steve leaned against the counter and moved closer to Darcy, she hardly heard his words over the loud music.

"Hey, Darcy, I was wondering," he asked, "maybe sometime tonight, if you get bored, we could go back to my house." She saw him licking his lips nervously, "'Cause my mom's gonna be gone all night, so you could sleep over, and you and I could-"

Steve was cut off short when all the sudden every light faded, except for an eerie green spotlight shining on the platform closest to them. Appearing out of nowhere, like a ghost, a scary looking man walked out of the shadows and onto the platform.

_Where did he come from_, Darcy exclaimed in her head. The platform was all the way on the other side of the theater from the door all the freaks seemed to come to and fro. She wondered how long he had been waiting and watching in the shadows.


	4. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Four

The man was tall and thin with very white skin and orange hair sticking out in odd angles from his head, making it look as though it were on fire. He had a large scar running down his left cheek, reaching to his lips. The shadows made it look like his mouth was stretching up the side of his face. He was dressed in dark-red clothes and carried a small wooden cage in pale white hands.

Darcy could tell everyone was entranced by this man's appearance, leaving people speechless. Except for one person. Next to her, she heard Steve gasp sharply. She turned to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on the scary man on the platform. She noticed with worry his face had gone pale white as paper.

"Steve," she questioned, "Steve what's wrong?"

He shook his head, his eyes not wavering, and she looked back at the platform.

The man had opened the door to the wooden cage and set it on the ground of his performance stage. A shiny silver glint caught her eye and she noticed a small little tin flute in his white hands.

Both she and Steve took steps closer to him to see what he was going to do.

He brought the flute to his lips, his shadowed eyes intent on the wooden cage at his feet. With the music still going, he began to tap his foot to the beat. He inhaled and blew on the silver flute.

Even the power of the speakers could not mask the music the man created, which Darcy heard like bells chiming in tune to the music played by the DJ. The people dancing in front of him jumped back suddenly, their eyes staring wide at the open door to the wooden cage. Darcy moved all the more closer to get a glimpse of what was inside until she was nearly a foot from the platform.

She gasped at what she saw.

A spider the size of a small basketball, with red, green, and purple stripes along its back, crept out of the cage, one giant hairy leg at a time.

Darcy stared in awe. She remembered there being mentioned a spider in the green Cirque Du Freak flyer, a Madam Octa. _So then_, she thought, _the man performing had to be Larten Crepsley_.

Mr. Crepsley blew on the flute nonstop to the music, his eyes never leaving the gigantic spider at his feet. Darcy noticed Madam Octa swayed a bit to the music of the flute as though under a spell. She moved slowly over to the edge of the platform, making the people jump back several more feet. When the spider rounded to Darcy's side, she gasped, but when she tried to back away, she couldn't budge because a group of people had gathered at her back to watch. Since she was the closest to the platform, Darcy caught Madam Octa's attention, and the spider stopped in front of her. She watched in horror as the huge creature extended several long legs, reaching for her, as though it were itching to jump and sink its abnormally large fangs into her. Darcy looked around desperately for help, searching for some way of escape. Her eyes jumped up and found Mr. Crepsley. His eyes had been on her all the while she writhed in terror. While he still breathed away at the flute, she saw the corners of his lips curving up in smile.

Then he winked at her.

And like magic Madam Octa turned from Darcy and faced Mr. Crepsley, moving over to him. The crowd gasped as the huge spider sat onto his shoe and began to climb up his pant leg. Darcy's skin crawled at the thought of Madam Octa's sticky legs pinching over Mr. Crepsley's flesh and she looked up at the man with worry. He took a quick breath and licked his dry lips before continuing with the flute; Darcy noticed in that very small hesitation of the flute, the spider had froze from climbing up onto his red vest jacket.

_Strange_, Darcy thought, _Madam Octa reacts to the flute, like the instrument keeps her under control. How fascinating_. Of course, she only thought this was fascinating just as long as Mr. Crepsley controlled the spider not to jump onto her.

The multicolored spider creepy-crawled its way over Mr. Crepsley's chest and onto his shoulder; there it then journeyed onto the side of his face, over his long scar and onto the silver flute. Darcy could tell Madam Octa was heavy from the way Mr. Crepsley's arms bowed down with weight when she ventured farther onto the very tip of the flute. Darcy gaped in amazement when the spider created a line of web and dropped on it from the end of the flute while he continued playing. She was half way from the instrument to the ground when he carefully shifted his weight to the side and swung her around in a circle. Screams followed as Mr. Crepsley turned again and again on his heel, letting Madam Octa soar over the heads of people in the crowd. Darcy ducked every time she flew over her, smiling at the insanity of it all. She looked over at Steve to see how he was reacting, but she was disappointed to see his face was still as grave as before.

Suddenly Mr. Crepsley bent over as if to drop Madam Octa into the crowds below and a woman standing in the target zone squealed into the ears of her dancing partner. But he had tricked them; Madam Octa jumped back onto his flute at the very last millisecond before she could land in the crowd. Darcy laughed aloud at the cleverness. Mr. Crepsley turned to her and bowed in appreciation for her praise.

As he dipped over in his bow, something slipped from between his shirt collar. Darcy saw what looked like a necklace, but it was a kind of jewelry she had never seen before in her life. Immediately she was mesmerized by its beauty. A pendent the shape of a tear drop, and the color of the darkest blood, hung from a black chain that swung back and forth, hypnotizing her. In the light, the blood pendent sparkled as thought it were winking at her seductively, calling her to it. Darcy's mouth hung slack in awe. A voice in her head told her she would be the most beautiful girl ever if only she had that chain around her own neck.

She didn't know what came over her.

She felt as though she were no longer in control of her body movements, like she was dreaming, as she lifted a hand and extended it closer and closer to the precious necklace. _Almost there_, she thought, _just a couple more inches_. Like a part of her was watching from a distance, she saw herself with her stomach pressed to the edge of the platform. The tips of her fingers nearly grazed the pendent, but in an instant it was gone.

Just in time, Mr. Crepsley saw her reaching for him out of the corner of his eyes; he jumped away from her as though she were a snake rearing to strike him. One of his hands clamped onto the pendent, and his eyes stared down at her severely.

Darcy looked back at him, feeling depressed; she was _so_ close. If he had waited a second more before moving, it would have been hers. Hands curled roughly into the fabric in her dress and she was forced back off the platform. She fell and landed into Steve's arms.

"What are you thinking?" He screeched in her ear, his fingernails dug into her arms painfully, and she winced.

She felt as though she were waking from a dream, and realized just how crazy she was. She had never stolen anything before? Why in the world would she steal something now, and in the middle of a crowd, and from a man in control of a gigantic deadly spider?

But as Mr. Crepsley moved his hand from the pendent to play the correct notes on the flute, she knew she would do anything to possess that necklace. She felt herself beginning to detest the man who wore it, like _he_ was the one who had stolen it from _her_. With her sights on the blood pendant, she hardly noticed Mr. Crepsley's eyes never left her as he finished his performance. He made Madam Octa crawl her way back down his body to the floor of the platform and into her wooden cage. He bent to one knee to close the little door.

When the spider was gone, the crowd blew a sigh of relief in unison. Mr. Crepsley pocketed his glinting silver flute, his eyes never leaving Darcy. Applause broke out all over the theater, but he hesitated before leaving his platform. A small smile spread on his face, at least she _thought_ it was a smile, it looked more like a wicked sneer. Then he reached his white hands up behind his neck and unclasped the precious blood pendent.

Darcy's eyes grew wide. Was he going to give it to her?

He brought the necklace away from his body and dropped it into one hand. He extended his arm out and Darcy greedily opened her hands to catch it when it fell.

But the necklace didn't fall into her hands.

It fell down, down, and slipped between the bars of Madam Octa's cage.

Darcy's face fell, her empty hands hovering in the air. She looked up at Mr. Crepsley questioningly, but before she knew it, he was gone, having slunk off the stage with the wooden cage, and the pendent, tucked safely under one arm. She knew where he was going: to the door next to the stage like all the freaks disappeared to. She wanted, _needed_ that necklace. _What if she just sneaked backstage and-_

"Darcy!" Steve shouted in her ear, interrupting her thoughts.

"What?" She shouted back.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, motioning to the platform. "You were just gonna steal from that . . . man, Mr. . . . . Crepsley or whatever he calls himself! Are you insane?"

She shook her head, not sure how to explain her strange behavior. "I don't know, something just came over me, I needed that necklace, Steve."

He scoffed, "You are insane." He looked away, his eyes drifting to the door next to the stage, "But you don't understand."

Darcy watched him. "What about you?" She asked, "What was that all about you gasping when you saw him?"

He didn't reply, but bit the inside of his cheek in deep thought. Darcy sighed, she knew once Steve clammed up it was pretty much impossible to open him back up again.

Her thoughts drifted to the necklace. Images flashed in her mind's eye: the blood pendant sparkling in the light, Mr. Crepsley's wicked sneer as he purposefully dropped the jewel in Madam Octa's cage.

"Hey, Steve," Darcy said, he didn't look at her and a part of her wondered if he was even listening, "I'm . . . um . . . I'll be right back." And feeling like her brain was floating above her body; she moved over the dance floor, past the body of dancers, and like a break in the waves, the door next to the stage was in her line of vision.


	5. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Five

Not wanting to appear out of place, she didn't hesitate when she pushed open the door. She pretended like she knew where she was going by choosing left or right down a hallway and following it. If she remembered right, Mr. Crepsley had made a left when he passed the door, so she went left.

The hallways of the old theater were pale white like the color of Mr. Crepsley's skin, and she walked through feeling as though she were traveling through his veins. The first door she came upon had a plaque reading, "Evra Van 'Snakeboy.'" Darcy shivered, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what a snakeboy looked like. But she had confidence now she knew the doors down the hallway led to the Cirque Du Freak employee's rooms.

Luckily she came across no one while searching for Mr. Crepsley's room. She could slip in and take the necklace in peace. But, then again, if no one was around, except Mr. Crepsley, what if the sight of her angered him and he attacked her?

No one would hear her screams.

Darcy stopped in her tracks, having sudden second thoughts. The man looked frightening, but looks could be deceiving, right? If she was lucky he would speak to her peacefully about perhaps a trade for the necklace, but if she was _really_ lucky, Mr. Crepsley won't even be there.

With a breath of encouragement, she took another brave step and continued her search.

She decided Mr. Crepsley was a man who liked his privacy. Why else would his room be the farthest from all the others? She had eventually found the door with a plaque that read, "Larten Crepsley & Madam Octa," after five minutes of searching. Darcy slowly placed her ear against the door to see if she could hear anything. Silence. Either the door was very thick or she was very lucky and no one was inside. Willing to take her chances she wound her hand around the doorknob and swiftly opened the door.

Mr. Crepsley's room was empty except for a few very strange objects. She eased inside the room and silently closed the door behind her. The space was small, just enough for one man to live comfortably for a couple days. Directly in front of her was a wooden table, and on top was Madam Octa's cage! The necklace was just inside! She approached the cage, at first making sure the door to the cage was closed and bent over to look at the spider from between the wooden bars. Madam Octa's many eyes blinked back at her. Darcy noticed the dripping fangs the size of fat fingers just beneath those many eyes. She swallowed nervously. Now all she needs to do was somehow get the spider out of her cage so she could snatch the blood pendant. Not so easy when dealing with the world's most deadly spider.

Then it came to her. _Light bulb! _All she needed was the flute. With the flute she can control Madam Octa; but where was the silver instrument? She looked around the table, and with a burst of relief, she found it clipped to the side of the wooden cage. She grabbed for the flute . . . then stopped.

Her eyes caught onto the other strange object in the room.

Against the wall ahead of her there was another wooden structure with a flat surface, only it was way too large and too tall to be a table. Darcy caressed the side of it; no, it wasn't a table, it was like a case to hold something, something six feet long and two feet wide. Now that she was standing over it, she saw how the formation of the wooden case looked very much like a casket.

Darcy gasped, snatching her hand away from the wood. Why would Mr. Crepsley have a casket in his room? What if something dead was lying in it this very second? She took a few haltering steps away.

It suddenly occurred to Darcy there were no beds in the room.

If Mr. Crepsley is staying here for a week to perform, then surely he would need a bed. Her eyes looked wide and fearful at the wooden casket. _Unless he already has it_.

_That's funny_, she thought, her stomach tying itself into knots, making her fight a gag reflex. _If Mr. Crepsley really did sleep in a coffin, it would almost be like he was a-_

"Vampire! Hey VAMPIRE!"

The shouting voice outside the door made Darcy jump a foot off the ground, making the hairs all over her body stand on end.

She knew that voice.

Creeping on tip-toe, she went to the door of the room and very, _very _slowly opened it enough for her to peek outside.

She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Mr. Crepsley had been standing only a couple feet from the door before the voice, farther down the hallway, stopped him in his tracks. He turned around to face the owner of the shout the very moment Darcy opened the door to his room. Her view was limited to seeing only Mr. Crepsley's tall form, but she didn't need to see the owner of the voice to figure out who it belonged to.

"I am sorry?" Mr. Crepsley asked politely in a deep voice, tilting his fiery orange head to the side, "Were you speaking to me, boy?"

"Y-yeah, I'm talking to you," Steve Leonard replied. By the trembling in his voice, Darcy knew he was terribly frightened. "I-I know who you are?"

Mr. Crepsley laughed good-heartedly, "I am Larten Crepsley."

Steve was silent a second then replied, "No, you're not. I know who you really are."

"Oh, _really_," Mr. Crepsley whispered, his deep voice going cold, "then enlighten me, boy, who am I?"

"You're Vur Horston . . . the vampire!"

Darcy's jaw dropped. She couldn't see Mr. Crepsley's reaction, but she guessed it had to be along the lines of shock.

He laughed, taking both she and Steve by surprise. "Well, I don't see any reason to lie; I had to be found out eventually. So," he bowed his head to Steve, "yes, I am who and what you say I am. Now," he straightened up, "tell me who sent you."

"What?" Steve asked, "No one sent me."

"Do not be a fool, you are just a boy, and you could not be working alone. Who put you onto me? What do they want?"

"I'm not working with anyone; I saw your picture in a Monster Myth book. You were with some human girl in the early nineteen-hundreds. But she dumped you when she found out you were a vampire."

Mr. Crepsley laughed curtly, "_She did not dump me_. I left her. She practically begged me to turn her, but I loved her too much to make her into a monster." His voice went quiet and thoughtful, "I am sure she thanked me one day."

"So everything I've read, all that's in the book wasn't just made-up stories?"

"No," Mr. Crepsley replied, "They were not." Then he said fiercely, "But it would have been better for you if they really were lies!"

Darcy's knees trembled, she felt so sorry for Steve. What in the world was he getting himself into?

"You won't hurt me," Steve said, his voice surprising confident.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you need me, I can help you."

Mr. Crepsley shook his head, "What are you talking about, boy?"

"I want to join you."

Darcy almost tumbled out the door, revealing her hiding spot when she heard this. _Join him? _

"Make me into a vampire!" Steve begged. "There's nothing else in the world I want more, please!"

"You are insane!" Mr. Crepsley exclaimed. "I can't turn you to a vampire, you're just a child! The Vampire Generals would have my head mounted on a pike!"

"What's the Vam-?"

"Forget it!" Mr. Crepsley shouted.

"I don't have to be like a complete vampire, being half is just fine. As a vampire I could move around in the sunlight for you, and do things for you and everything!"

Darcy heard Steve take a few desperate steps toward Mr. Crepsley whom was shaking his head.

"You would greatly regret that decision, I assure you. The life of a vampire is a lonely one. No friends, no spouse, no real home, always on the move from humans who hate you, and want nothing more than to see you dead." Mr. Crepsley said to Steve sternly, "You _do not _want to become a vampire."

"Yes, I do," Steve assured him. "I've got nothing here in this life I have, becoming a vampire would actually improve my situation, really."

Mr. Crepsley tilted his head again, giving him a peculiar look. "What? No family?"

"My mom doesn't care about me, she's gone all time, and my dad," Steve's voice cracked with emotion, "I haven't seen my dad since I was a baby. He abandoned me. Nobody cares, I'm telling you."

"What about friends?" Mr. Crepsley asked, "What about that pretty girl that was with you tonight, the one that tried to snatch my pendant?"

"Darcy?" Steve asked, he paused, "Oh I'll miss her especially, but . . . I want to be a vampire more than I care about anything, friends or family. I swear being a vampire is a part of my destiny."

"Well," Mr. Crepsley hesitated, thinking it over, "If it is what you are sure you really want."

"More than anything."

Mr. Crepsley sighed and held and hand out to Steve, "Come; let me test your blood."

Slow and unsteady steps followed, echoing throughout the hallway. Darcy kept her eyes peeled and soon Steve appeared in her line of vision. The look in her friend's eyes was of compete terror. Just a few exchanged words seemed to have made him go as white as Mr. Crepsley, and he trembled like a leaf in a breeze. She very much wanted to jump out of her hiding spot, run to Steve, and wrap her arms around him to let him know he was okay; he didn't have to do this. . . . Why did he want to leave her now when only an hour ago he told her he liked her? Wasn't she enough to stop him from becoming a monster?

Apparently not.

Steve placed a shaking hand in Mr. Crepsley's outstretched palm. The vampire induced pressure on Steve's hand and immediately brought it to his lips. A moment passed by with only the sounds of sucking and a drip-drop on the cement floor.

Darcy could only watch in horror, separated by her urge to run over and stop whatever Mr. Crepsley was dong, and her need to stay where she was. If the vampire knew she was there, what would stop him from killing both she and Steve, sucking their blood until they were bone dry?

Suddenly, Mr. Crepsley burst out coughing. He pushed a white hand into Steve's chest, forcing him away, and he doubled over gagging and sputtering.

"What?" Steve asked, his voice going high pitched in fear, "What's the matter?"

Mr. Crepsley gasped, "You cannot," he gulped, clearing his throat, "you cannot be a vampire! Your blood tastes terrible, of evil and death!" He spit out another wad of red, mixed with his saliva, and he shouted at Steve, "You have the blood of a killer! Your instincts are not of a vampire! I will not turn you!"

"What?" Steve shrieked. "No-you have to-!"

"I will not!" Mr. Crepsley replied, he stepped up to Steve and pushed a hand again into his chest. "Go, you must leave. Forget about this night! Forget about everything! Now you can move on with your life. Consider yourself lucky."

A menacing growl snarled its way out of Steve's throat; the sound made Darcy's hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. "I won't forget about this! Never!" He turned and fled. Over his shoulder he shouted. "I'll get my revenge on you Vur Horston! You're going to regret your decision, and I _will_ kill you!"

The echo from his voice and footsteps disappeared, and then she realized, with a jolt of fear, she was completely alone with the vampire.


	6. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Six

Mr. Crepsley stayed where he was, his back to her, while he continued to spit the rest of Steve's blood on the ground.

Darcy waited and watched. If the vampire turned his head only slightly to the side, he would see her, and she would most likely be killed. Before Steve came, it looked like Mr. Crepsley was on his way to his room, so now she had only a matter of seconds before he was going to walk in and discover her. What was she going to do? She quietly crept away from the door and glanced around the room. Madam Octa's wooden cage still rested on the table with its flute. What if she could just grab the cage really quickly and make a run for it? She was smaller and more nimble that he was; she could try to outrun him. But on the other hand, how fast could a vampire run?

While Darcy had been watching Steve beg to be made into a vampire, she remembered seeing one of those heavy doors off to the side. She was far enough on the other end of the old theater the heavy door had to be an exit. Perhaps while he wasn't looking she could make a run for it.

Darcy tip-toed over to Madam Octa's cage; she didn't have time to open the little door and flute Madam Octa out so she could grab the necklace; she'll just have to do it later when she can't be bothered or get into trouble. But if she took Madam Octa, how will she return her to its master, Mr. Crepsley?

She shrugged. The spider didn't matter now. She will just have to cross that bridge when she gets there.

Tucking Madam Octa's cage under her arm, Darcy went back to the door to peek outside. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, expecting to see the vampire standing just outside the door, waiting to pounce on her. But the door was clear when she looked, and when she inched herself farther out the door she saw she was completely alone.

Where did that vampire get to? She didn't like not knowing where a monster was. It was just like in the movies when the bad guy suddenly disappears, only to be standing just behind the victim. Was she the unknowing victim, just waiting for the bad guy to get her? Paranoia got the better of her and she peeked over her shoulder. But she was alone. Darcy opened the door and slipped out into the pale hallway. No one in sight.

She made a break for it before anything could stop her, and she sprinted to the heavy door, praying fervently it wasn't locked. With cage in hand, she shoved her shoulder against the door and YES! It burst open with her strength. Just as she suspected, she was met with the coolness of the night air. She was outside, around the back of the old theater. The breeze blew across her face as though welcoming her . . . or warning her to keep going. The wind whipped past her ears, whispering loudly, "_Ruuuun!_"

She didn't need to be told twice.

And like the wind, she sprinted away from the theater, forcing her legs as forward as they could go in her little red dress.

She did it! She had the precious pendant! It was hers! She could hardly wait until the beautiful blood-stone was around her neck. She could show it at school, and everyone would comment how amazing she looked! And before she knew it, Mr. Crepsley and the Cirque will have to move on to a different town. He'll just have to forget about it and get a new necklace and performing spider. Alana said so herself, the Cirque never visited the same town twice. She was safe!

Darcy had sprinted two-thirds of the way home, and then remembered she left her bike at the old theater in the alleyway. Both hers and Steve's bikes were there. She wondered if Steve left the theater after his confrontation with Mr. Crepsley, most likely. He was probably smart enough to grab his bike; he must have seen hers there as well, knowing she was still inside.

Her mind was still too numb to take in everything that just happened back at the theater. Mr. Crepsley being a vampire, Steve asking to join him, her actually _stealing_ from a vampire; everything about this night has been unbelievable. If she woke up tomorrow, would she still have Madam Octa, and the pendant? Or would everything about this night disperse like a dream, like none of it really happened? She wasn't sure what she wanted. Ignorance is bliss, she was happy before she knew vampires were real, but then again, how could she live her life knowing there was more out there in the world than her ordinary life?

Sufficed to say, she didn't sleep very well that night. She didn't bother going back to Alana's, so she wouldn't have to explain why she was hiding a basketball sized spider under her arm. She went home, using the spare key under the tulip flower pot to sneak inside. Her family was asleep, as expected; it was past midnight. Quiet as dust, she crept up the stairs, listening for the snores of her parents, and she escaped in her bedroom.

With disappointment she knew she had to wait until morning before she could get the pendant. In order to get it, she would need to use the flute to control Madam Octa, and if the music woke her parents up, she would need one hell of a good excuse as to why she was playing past midnight. So for now she fit the spider's cage in the very back of her closet where her family would not easily come across it.

"Good night, Madam Octa," Darcy whispered before slipping out of her red dress and climbing into bed.

She tried to sleep, she really tried. But every time she closed her eyes, Larten Crepsley's scarred face flashed in her memory. And she kept hearing twigs breaking or grass rustling just beneath her window.


	7. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Seven

When Darcy Shane woke up the next morning, the very thought that burst through her mind was, "I'M ALIVE!" She was very much alive, with a very pretty necklace waiting to be worn in her closet. She threw back her covers and jumped out of bed, quickly throwing on jeans and a t-shirt. She brushed her dark brown hair briefly, but before she reached a hand out to open her closet, her stomach growled.

"I suppose the necklace can wait," she said, setting down her brush and leaving her bedroom. It wasn't like the cage was going to disappear. So she hopped down the stairs cheerfully and frolicked into the kitchen.

Her mom, Angela, was already making breakfast, and her sister, Annie, was sitting down at the table reading the newspaper comics.

"Hey," Mom said when she saw Darcy, "You're home early."

"Oh," Darcy remembered she told her parents she'd leave Alana's today in the afternoon, and she quickly thought of an excuse. "Oh, yeah, well, Alana and I kind of had a fight, so I came home last night."

Mom fixed her with a glare only mothers could pull off, "How late was 'last night'?" She asked.

_Damn it_, she thought, thinking she was caught, "Um," she mustered, "not late."

Mom's had a way of just knowing things, like whether their kids were somewhere they shouldn't be, or that they really ate all of their food. Darcy's mom knew when she wasn't telling the whole truth.

Her eyes narrowed as she switched hands with the spatula, and Darcy spotted the usual knowing smile on her lips. "Did you and Alana see some boys last night?"

Annie looked up from her comics, her jaw slack.

"No!" Darcy exclaimed, trying to laugh, but came out sounding more like a cough. "I wasn't seeing boys, Mom." She sat down at the table next to Annie, stealing a piece of buttered toast from her sister's plate. It was only partly a lie, right? Sure she saw Steve, but Mr. Crepsley wasn't exactly a boy, technically he's not even human. Her stomach did a belly flop at the thought of telling her family she stole precious things from a vampire last night, and lived _not_ to tell the tale.

Mom must be in an especially good mood today, like herself, because she shrugged her shoulders with a smile and turned back to making breakfast, "Whatever, dear."

But Annie wasn't about to give up easily. She leaned over and made kissy sounds in her ear.

"Quit it!" Darcy said, she elbowed her little sister in the arm, but she couldn't resist grinning. If they thought she was with a boy last night, then let them think! It would be better than them knowing she was really with a monster.

After breakfast Darcy sprinted back to her bedroom, the palms of her hands were sweating in anticipation. This was it! This was moment she'd been waiting for! She strode to her closet in a two steps, flying open the sliding glass door. She bent to her knees and threw her clothes over her shoulder, until - yes! There it was! She picked up the cage by the handle and set it carefully in the center of her room. She lay with her stomach on the floor to look at Madam Octa properly. The large spider looked a little shaken by her new surroundings as she sat hunched in one corner of the cage. But when her many eyes blinked over at Darcy between the bars, she thought the spider looked a bit hungry, and she put a little more space between she and the wooden cage. She saw the pendant resting just beneath the spider, as though it were guarding what belonged to her master from Darcy's desire.

"Alright," she whispered, unclasping the silver flute from the cage, "Let's see what you can do." She placed the flute to her lips and played a couple notes. Madam Octa's hairy legs twitched at the familiar sound and she inched closer to the bars of the cage. Darcy laughed and excitedly played a couple more random notes. The spider moved to each note, as though not sure what to do, but unable to stop herself from doing anything. Darcy sat up with satisfaction. _Now, how do I get her to do what I want_, she wondered. For a moment she worried it was songs that controlled her movements, and if she didn't know how to play Mr. Crepsley's songs, she wouldn't be able to make the spider do what she wanted.

Maybe it's more than just what the spider can hear . . . maybe she has to think it, too.

This new idea made her heart jolt and she brought the flute once again to her lips. _Okay, Madam Octa_, she thought, _when I tell you to, you will raise a leg in the air, got it? _Obviously the spider didn't reply, but blinked again. Darcy began playing random notes on the flute, sounding horribly, but it caught Madam Octa's attention. When she was ready, she thought, _Do it, now! Raise a leg!_

. . . Madam Octa blinked . . .

"Okay, let's try that again," Darcy whispered before licking her dry lips and blowing again on the instrument. She stared hard at the spider, her face going hot with concentration. _Now!_

There was a moment's hesitation.

And then . . .

Madam Octa flicked a hairy leg in the air, as though she was saluting to Darcy . . . or Hitler.

Darcy burst out laughing, the silver flute falling from her hands. She rocked back on her side, her stomach in stitches. She was starting to like this little spider. It was kind of . . . cute, in a way. Excited to try it again, she quickly picked the flute back in her hands and sat up.

While in her fit of laughter, Darcy failed to see or hear her bedroom door open. She gasped, looking up swiftly to see who was there.

Steve.

He was standing there in her doorway, not looking at her. He was looking at Madam Octa, staring at her like she was, well, a small basketball sized spider with fangs at fat as fingers. Lightning speed, he stepped into Darcy's room and closed the door behind him.

Without turning to face her he asked, his voice tight, "Where did you get her?"

"Steve, I-I-I was going to tell you that I got her, but I'm not going to keep her, so I just-"

He spun around, "You stole from Vur Horston! Do you know what this means?"

"–no."

"Really?"

"No . . . I mean yeah."

"When did you steal from Vur Horston, Darcy?" He growled.

"After I left you at the dance," she replied. "I went looking for Mr. Crepsley's room to get the pendant I saw, but it was still in Madam Octa's cage, so I just took the whole thing."

"How long were you in his room?"

"Um, not long," she said not looking him in the eye.

"Don't lie to me, Darcy," Steve snarled.

"I'm not!"

"Then why did I see your bike still in the alleyway, where we left it?"

"Um."

He took a steady step towards her, and Darcy jumped up to her feet. He asked in her face with gritted teeth, "How long were you in Vur Horston's room, Darcy?"

She bit her lip, and sighed, "A while, you were gone long before me."

Steve growled and stomped his foot as though he were a little boy, "How much did you hear?"

She swallowed and cried, "All of it."

He looked away, shaking his head.

"Steve," Darcy whispered, "How _could you_? Join a _vampire_? What if he really did it? What if you came after me and . . . and killed me or something?"

Steve laid a hand on her shoulder, "I would never hurt you, Darcy. Vampire's live a long time; if you wanted I would have turned you so we could be together."

Darcy's jaw dropped as she glared up at him. She swiped his hand away angrily. "No," she hissed, "I would never become like you. I would never be a monster."

Steve, the boomerang, brought his hand back to her shoulder, only tighter this time. This time he hurt her, and she winced with pain. "I wouldn't be a monster, Darcy. Why would you even think that? Is it because of what Vur Horston said? Because he said I was evil?"

She tried to shrug him off, but he wouldn't let go, "Partly," her voice was quivering, she remembered what her mother had told her before, "You're dangerous, Steve. You say you wouldn't hurt me, but what if Mr. Crepsley was right. What if you did hurt me because you really are evil-?"

"I'm not evil!" Steve shouted. He shoved her in the chest, and she landed hard on her bed. He jumped on top of her, grabbing each of her wrists, and forced them up on both sides of her head. "Take it back! Take it back, now, or so help me I swear I'll-!"

Darcy screamed, writhing beneath his weight, "I take it back, okay, I take it back, I'm sorry!" Steve was heavy on her, his face flushed and furious. The angry look in his eyes was like nothing she had ever seen before. She would have said anything to get him off her.

He lay perched on her a few seconds longer than necessary, staring down at her, and then he grunted and rolled off.

Darcy sat up, gasping and flustered.

He sat at the edge of her bed, his back to her, "I'm sorry," he whispered eventually, "I shouldn't have done that, that was too much. But I'm just . . . so _pissed_ I didn't get what I've always wanted, and for what Mr. Crepsley said about me. I was afraid for a moment you didn't want to be my friend anymore." He sniffed, "and the thing is, Darcy, you're my only true friend. If I didn't have you, then I don't know what I'd do."

He rested his forearms on his knees and began to cry silently. Darcy watched him, separated by her fear of him and her sympathy. She was his best friend, his _only_ friend; he needed her. Darcy scooted over to Steve and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into the comfort of her warm body as he cried.

"Shhh," she hushed, stroking his back softly. "You don't have to cry, Steve."

"I'm such an idiot," he choked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"No, you're not," she replied, "I shouldn't have just waited by and watched. I should've stood by your side. You must've been so afraid."

Steve nodded, sniffed again and wiped his nose on a dry part of his sleeve. Darcy leaned over to her bedside table and grabbed a tissue from its box then handed it to him.

He mumbled thanks, and blew his nose. When he was done he sighed and looked at the cage in the center of her room. "You have Madam Octa."

Darcy laughed, "Yeah, you remembered."

"He's really gonna kill you."

Her laughed choked off and she remarked quickly, "I figured he'd just have to buy a new one when he leaved with the Cirque."

Steve shook his head, "No, vampires hold hellish grudges. He'll show up sooner or later to get her back, or to kill you, or both." He looked over at Darcy his eyes red and puffy, "But don't worry," he smiled, "I'll kill him when he comes, like I promised."

Darcy was frozen in fear. Vampires hold grudges? She didn't know that! Madam Octa was just some pet, what made her so special Mr. Crepsley would need to kill her for it . . . unless it wasn't Madam Octa he wanted, but the blood-red pendant. She didn't want to give the pendant back to him, but at the same time she couldn't just stick around and wait for him to come. Would she have to make a run for it? She wouldn't want to risk her family getting hurt, so perhaps she would have to go out on her own. The thought made her sad, but she would be willing to run. Then she thought of something else:

What if Mr. Crepsley was looking for her this very second? What if he was waiting just outside her window?

Darcy leaned over her bed and peeked outside her window. The backyard was empty, no scary men hiding behind the bushes. However, the sun was shining brightly this Saturday afternoon. Maybe he already knew where she lived, but he was only waiting until the sun went down to make his move.

"Hey, have you tried to make her do any moves?" Steve asked.

"Hm?" Darcy blinked, his words bringing her out of her fearful thoughts, "What's that?"

Steve sat up off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of Madam Octa's cage. "Have you used the flute thingy to make her do those tricks?"

"Oh," she joined him on her floor, and picked up the silver flute, positioning it in her hands, "no, but I think I figured out how to make her do what I want." She played random notes thinking, _jump up and down_.

Almost instantly, Madam Octa bounced on her eight legs, her baseball sized head nearly pounding the top of the cage. Steve gasped at this spectacle and burst out laughing.

"That's amazing," he leaned forward and undid the clasp on her cage, "let's take her out and see what she can do."

"Wait!" I shouted, "I've never done that before. What if I slip or I accidently drop the flute or something?"

"Well, we can't know how it will go if we don't try, right?" Steve said in a tone that said, "Quit arguing, you know I'm right!" He opened the cage and jumped back.

_Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod_, Darcy quickly brought the flute back to her lips and played away frantically. She wasn't sure what to order Madam Octa to do, and for a moment the spider just sat there while she played.

"Hey," Steve said, stepping back to the cage and reached a hand inside, "Isn't this what you were looking for?" When he pulled his hand out it looked like he carried a handful of blood with a black chain dangling from his palm; it was the pendant.

She nodded frantically. _Yes, he got it out! _She thought in jubilation.

Steve set the jewelry aside and returned his attention back to Madam Octa. Darcy laughed at this. She knew, of course, Steve was only a teenage guy, and didn't have as much respect for beautiful things such as necklaces.

"Tell her to do something," Steve demanded.

Darcy thought quickly. _Run around in circles!_

Madam Octa sprinted as fast as her little legs could carry around the room making Steve whoop and holler in excitement.

"Make her walk all over me, like Mr. Crepsley!" Steve said.

"Are you crazy?" She shouted, looking up from the flute.

"Don't quit playing!"

"Oh, right, sorry," Darcy quickly continued her "music." No matter how much her brain told her not to, just to make Steve happy, she did as she was commanded and ordered Madam Octa to crawl over to him and incline his clothes.

Steve stayed inert, not daring to move a muscle as the huge spider climbed onto his tennis shoes and used her eight long hairy and thick legs to go up the leg of his pants.

Steve bit his tongue, suppressing a giggle. "It tickles," he whispered. He pressed his lips together as the spider moved up his t-shirt and onto his arm. He shivered and Darcy stared in horror as Madam Octa paused when she told it not to. But like it were only pausing to take a break, it moved again and continued its way up onto Steve's shoulder.

_Don't say anything_, Darcy mentally begged to Steve, _don't move, don't blink, don't even breath_. She begged and begged as she ordered Madam Octa to crawl onto Steve's face. She could tell he really enjoyed this part, having her eight legs tickle his chin, and she decided to have a little fun with it. She made the spider sit on his upper lip, and she giggled when she saw how the spider made Steve look like he was wearing a very strange mustache.

Darcy was only just beginning to relax, thinking her and Steve could now do lots of fun things with this intelligent creature.

And then Annie walked in.

"Hey, Darcy, where's my-" and she stopped, her eyes going wide at the great big thing on Steve's face. She gasped, taking in a lung full of air.

"No, don't!" I shouted, knowing what was coming next, and dreading it with every atom of my being.

She screamed.

She startled me and the silver flute, the only thing keeping Steve from being killed, fell through my fingers and crashed to the ground. As though in slow motion, I looked back at the monstrous spider on my friend's face. When Steve saw the flute was gone, fear blew up in his face, and he reached a hand up to swipe away the spider.

But it was too late.

Madam Octa saw her chance and she greedily took it. Fangs shining and bared, she reared back and plunged them into the flesh of Steve's face.


	8. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Eight

Steve was rushed to the hospital after Mom heard their screams all the way from the back yard. Darcy had been crying uncontrollably, tucking Madam Octa safely into her closet, when she burst in. Annie and she didn't know how to explain to her what happened without bursting into tears again. As Mom looked over Steve, she gave her sister a look that shouted, "Don't you dare say a word about this!" And like a good little sister, she nodded. Darcy knew she was in for it later.

She was able to ride in the ambulance with Steve and her mom. By the time they reached the hospital, he had the nastiest welt the size of a golf ball where Madam Octa bit him. He looked terrible. His lips were blue and his skin was the color of old, yellowed paper. Somehow she knew, deep down, her best friend was going to die, and it was all her fault.

While Steve was hurried on a gurney to the Emergency Room, a stern looking doctor walked up to Darcy and Annie.

"I know this is very scary for you," he said, looking down at them sympathetically, "but we really need know how Steve Leonard was attacked, and specifically, by what?"

Annie looked to her older sister, and thankfully Darcy had been thinking of an excuse all the way to the hospital. It started with the truth, "He was bite by a spider, kind of a big one, colorful, exotic looking."

"Yes, we noticed the bite marks. How did it get there?" The doctor asked.

Darcy paused.

"Through the window," Annie finished. Darcy looked over at her relief washed over her face. "A breeze blew in and, it came through the window on its web."

The doctor nodded. "And were you able to kill the spider or capture it?"

Annie frowned, "Why?"

"So the doctors can see what kind of spider it is and know exactly was kind of serum to use to work against the venom."

She shook her head, turning once again to her older sister. Darcy had not considered a cure for different kinds of spiders; she had assumed there was one to cure every spider bites. If she showed Madam Octa to the doctors, her parents would find out she lied about everything that happened Friday night. There was no way she could tell them she went with Steve to the Cirque Du Freak night club! They would flay her alive!

She shook her head, growing hot with shame knowing Steve would do anything, even take the most intense punishment, just to save her. "No, it crawled away through all the chaos."

The doctor looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

Darcy looked up him, desperately wanting to ask her next question, but terribly fearing she already knew the answer, "What will happen to him if he doesn't get a cure?"

He tilted his head sympathetically, and Darcy felt a warm hand on her shoulder, Mom.

"Well," he said, smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes, "I'm afraid I'm not sure exactly how he will react to the treatment we have, but I assure you, we will do _everything_ we can to help your friend."

Darcy tried to return the nice doctor's smile, but it wobbled unsteadily until she gave up and turned around to bury her face in Mom's chest. Steve was going to die, she knew it. Warm tears flowed down her face as Mom wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"Thank you," Mom said to the doctor, and she heard his footsteps, which faded away down the hall.

_Thanks for nothing, _Darcy shouted in her head. She didn't mean to feel so terribly towards the doctors, she knew they were doing the best they could. But mostly she was frustrated with herself; if it hadn't been for her selfish need for the beautiful pendant, she wouldn't have Madam Octa, and Steve would be fine.

_Steve was going to die and it was all her fault_.

Mom didn't let her stay the night at the hospital, saying it wasn't going to help Steve get better if she was exhausted. At home or at the hospital, Darcy knew it didn't matter; she wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight. She didn't want to be there as Steve got progressively worse, but she also didn't want to go back to her room where the horrible event happened. However, she had little choice in the matter, and Mom insisted she come home.

When they got home, Dad was back from work, and after offering his sympathy, he asked if Darcy wanted anything eat. She shook her head; she hadn't eaten for long hours, but the vision of Madam Octa sinking her teeth into Steve's face made her loose her appetite.

So leaving her family in the kitchen, she dragged her feet up the stairs to her room. The lights were off and the evening sky sent the bedroom into shadow. Feeling her way, she found her bed and collapsed upon it. She let her body sink farther into the sheets, exhausted, but unable to go to sleep.

Somewhere out there, Steve was going into a coma and a vampire was wishing her dead.

Emotion swelled up in her throat and she choked on a sob. She flipped onto her stomach and buried her drenched face in her pillow. With the pillow buffeting the sound of her cries, she completely let loose all tears she ever held back. All the while she thought, _why her?_

"Was it worth it?" A deep voice spoke out in the darkness.

Darcy jumped up from her bed in shock. The voice had come from somewhere in her room. "Who's there?" She called out fearfully.

"Your worst nightmare," he replied which was followed by a chuckle.

Breathlessly, Darcy turned on her bedside lamp, missing the button several times because of her trembling fingers.

Now she wasn't sure if turning on the lamp was the greatest idea. Which was scarier? Hearing a mysterious voice in the darkness? Or finding out that mysterious voice belonged to a scarred, orange haired, vengeful vampire?

Like she thought before: Ignorance is bliss, but keeping the lamp off would have been complete stupidity!

Mr. Crepsley sat perched on her writing desk wearing his usual dark-red attire. He swung something glittering red in his hand and Darcy saw he held his pendant. She stared at him feeling the blood drain from her face; her head spun from lack of air, her breath catching in her throat with fear.

The vampire smiled, and it sent shivers up her back.


	9. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Nine

"So," he asked, "_was_ it worth it?"

"W-w-what," her voice quivered and she swallowed to clear her throat, "what do you mean?"

He held the pendant up in the air, "This? Was the death of your friend worth my necklace?"

"He's not dead yet," Darcy said angrily, her voice finding confidence in the fact she was still alive. But maybe he was just the kind to play with his food first.

He laughed, "No not yet, but it should not be long now. Madam Octa's venom is one of the fastest acting poisons in the world. I would say that little cretin has an hour or two left to live."

"Don't call him that!" Darcy shouted, bunching her hands in fists, she took a brave step towards him angrily. "Steve was-is my friend! If you had only given him what he wanted last night he wouldn't be dying in the hospital right now!"

"Yes, I know this." Mr. Crepsley nodded, his eyes sad, "But the boy does not belong with vampires, his blood was too evil. The vampires are a respected race, only wishing to live in society peacefully. Your friend craved chaos."

"I'd never seen him so upset," she remark, remembering when Steve attacked her earlier that day. "You could've made him so happy, but now he's dying, because of me." She buried her face in her hands as fresh tears threatened to fall.

Mr. Crepsley looked at the floor, away from her display of emotion. "So," he said, and Darcy looked up at him with red eyes, "does that answer my question, 'was it worth it?'"

She looked at the pendant in detest, "It's because of that stupid thing Steve was bitten. You can keep it, I don't want it anymore." He waved it in his hand, her eyes followed it intently, and the pendant's beautiful color got caught in a speck of light, winking at her. She noticed him watching her stare at the pendant hungrily and she quickly looked away, whispering, "No matter how wonderful it is."

Mr. Crepsley left his perch, striding to her. Darcy flinched and took a couple startled steps back only to collide with the wall. The vampire stood a foot away, and she noticed a particular smell about him that made her eyes water. It was the smell of _blood_. A taunting smile played on his white lips. He held the pendant up and waved it in her face.

"Go ahead, my dear," he said in his deep voice, "take it."

She kept her eyes on the silver buttons on his vest, not looking at him or the pendant. _She didn't want it she didn't want it she didn't want it_. When she was able to resist temptation for at least a minute, she shook her head firmly.

Mr. Crepsley grunted, "Suit yourself." He clasped the pendant around his own neck and slipped it underneath his dark-red clothes. He moved away and looked about her room, "I came here for my spider. She is still here, isn't she?"

After giving the vampire an once-over and deciding he wasn't going to kill her just yet, she went over to her closet and lifted out Madam Octa. Mr. Crepsley took the cage from her and peeked inside, he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"She looks skinny. You could not at least feed her, could you?" He looked down at Darcy who only shrugged her shoulders.

Darcy silently watched the vampire. He had his pendant back, as well as his pet spider, so was he still considering whether to kill her or not?

"Are you going to hurt me?" She whispered.

Mr. Crepsley didn't reply at first, but stared down at the cage in his hands.

After what felt like forever he said, "I do not want to hurt you, Darcy."

That didn't mean he wasn't going to.

"But are you?"

He looked up at her from the cage and his eyes were hard in thought, so she knew he had been considering it. Mr. Crepsley turned around and set Madam Octa's cage down on her writing desk.

With his back to her he asked, "What would you do to save your friend?"

She was confused by his question, but passionately answered, "I would do anything. Why?" She became hopeful now, "Can you help him?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I have a cure."

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She was overwhelmed with the vampire's sudden kindness while she had expected him to kill her. _Steve still has a chance to live! _"T-thank you, I-"

"But I will not do such a thing for free," he said quickly, twirling around to face her, his face severe. "I only have a little bottle and it is very precious to me. There must be payment, and it must be very important."

"Anything," she said breathlessly.

A sinister smile played in his lips at her earnestness. Her stomach did a back flip.

The vampire leaned back on her desk, stroking the long scar down his face. "If you remember, I was not very keen on taking on a vampire assistant. But ever since my little encounter with Steve Leonard I have been considering that maybe it would not be such a bad idea. After all, I really could use the help."

"Okay," Darcy said slowly, "So what you mean is you'll turn Steve into a vampire, like he asked?"

He burst out laughing, a sound deep and rich in his chest, "Definitely not! I have tested his blood once; that was all I needed to know that the boy is evil. Like I said he would make for a terrible and dangerous vampire."

She huffed in frustration, "Then what do you want-!" Then it occurred to her. The realization must have shown on her face, because his smile widened. "Me," she choked, "You want _me_!"

He bowed his head slightly to her in affirmation.

She shook her head frantically. "No! You won't make _me_ into a _monster_."

"Since when were vampire's monsters?" Mr. Crepsley asked with a frown.

"Since always!" She exclaimed. "Vampires are evil, creatures of the night, killers-!"

"Creatures of the night, yes, evil, no, killers, definitely not!"

"What?" She asked. "What do you mean? Of course you're killers, you drink people's blood!"

He shook his orange head, "Vampire's do not kill from those they feed from, only knock them out. They wake up eventually, not knowing a thing, and go on with their lives." He waved a finger with sharp nails at her. "But there are creatures of the night that do kill those they drink from, called Vampaneze, and they kill every single time." He paused taking in Darcy's wide blue eyes, he lowered his hand and said more calmly, "But that is a different story, one I would gladly tell you after I turn you."

"No-but, I mean, there's _got_ to be another way!" Darcy begged.

"No," Mr. Crepsley said, shifting his weight angrily and she knew he was quickly losing his patience. "There is no other payment I would willingly take! Either you join me and your friend lives, or I leave and he dies. It is that simple, you have no other option!"

Darcy thought it over. She really didn't have a choice. She desperately wanted to run away and never return, but that would mean Steve, her best friend, would die. She couldn't let that happen. Her best friend's life was in her hands. She knew Steve would go through with this if she were the one dying, so she owed it to him. There was no other way around it.

She looked up at the man who was willing to take her life away, to make her into a monster, and she found herself hating him. But she swallowed back her anger like dry swallowing a large pill and asked calmly, "Alright, what exactly does a vampire assistant do?"

His posture relaxed, and he smiled, not unkindly, "You will travel with me wherever I go," he explained. "We will be going across the world. You will be my eyes and hands during the day, and guard me while I sleep. You will find food for me while it is scarce. Do chores for me like take my clothes to the laundry, polish my shoes, and look after Madam Octa. In short, you will see to my every need. In return, I will teach you the ways of the vampires."

"But I'll just be a half-vampire, right?" She asked.

"At first, I will make you only half so you can move around during the day and possess some vampire abilities. But eventually the vampire blood will mature in your body and you will become a full vampire, but that could be years from now."

Darcy raised an eyebrow at him, "What kind of abilities?"

"Full vampires can do lots of things, but only half have the ability to do the basic powers, such as flitting-,"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Flitting," he explained, "it is the ability to run very, _very_ fast. Half-vampires also do not need as much blood, but you will not age as slowly as a full vampire."

"Wait, vampires don't live forever?" Darcy asked.

"Not technically," he said, "Full vampires can live seven hundred to a thousand years. So, of course, it does feel like forever. As I was saying, half-vampires only age a fifth compared to humans, whereas full vampires age a tenth." He held his arms open, "So as you can see, being full vampire has its advantages, but so does being half and that is what I will turn you to."

Darcy muttered, "I don't know. It sounds like a lot of trouble."

He turned away and picked up Madam Octa's cage from her table. "Then I shall be on my way."

"No, wait!" She shouted, and he froze. Steve was dying; the vampire said so himself he only had an hour or two to live. She needed to make her decision now, before it was too late. She straightened her back and took a deep breath, "I've made my choice." She said, "I will join you."

Mr. Crepsley sighed, on the exhale whispering, "Good-"

"But," she added quickly, "keep in mind, if I am given the chance, I _will_ betray you, I swear it. You cannot trust me, do you understand?"

He nodded, his eyes sad, and he replied quietly, "Yes," he gave a small smile, "But that is why I want you, Darcy. You have a fighting spirit in you that would make you a grand vampire. You have shown courage and bravery in standing up to me, but you have also shown passionate loyalty in defending your friend. All of these are traits in someone I would be glad to have at my side."

She raised her chin at him with pride and he smiled.

"So," she said, "do it already."


	10. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Ten

He put Madam Octa's cage down once again on the writing desk. Then he stepped closer, towering over her, and the smell of blood was overpowering. He held up his left hand and used the sharp nails of his right to pierce the very tips of his fingers. He did the same for the right hand. He held out his fingers to her, every ten of them dripping and bloody.

"Show me your hands," he said, and with hands shaking she lifted them as commanded. He took her by surprise when he shot his nails forward and pierced all ten of her fingers at once.

She cried out, but looked away to hide her tears from the searing pain.

"You better get used to that," Mr. Crepsley said gently, "Pain and being a vampire come hand-in-hand. One day you will realize that, but the sooner the better." He used the back of his bloody hand to wipe away a tear that escaped on her cheek. Then he put a couple of her fingers in his mouth and drew out some blood. He swished it around in his mouth as though it were wine. He nodded, satisfied, "You have good blood," he said, "we may continue."

He pressed his fingers against hers, bringing their wounds together. For a few seconds there was a numb feeling at the ends of Darcy's arms. Then she felt a rushing sensation with each pound of her heart and realized her blood was moving from her body to his through her left hand, while his blood was entering hers through her right. She felt a strange, tingling feeling in her body. Mr. Crepsley's blood traveled up her right arm, down the side of her body, and traveled over to the left. When his blood reached her heart there was a throbbing pain and her legs almost gave out from under her. Behind blurry eyes, she saw the same thing was happening to Mr. Crepsley. She could see him grinding his teeth with his forehead slick with sweat. The aching lasted until Mr. Crepsley's blood crept down her left arm and started flowing back into his body. Girl and vampire remained joined for a couple more seconds, until he broke free with a shout. Darcy fell backward to her bedroom floor feeling dizzy and sick.

Above her, Mr. Crepsley licked the tips of his fingers. He held his hands out to her and she saw the wounds were closed, blood no longer flowing from them. She placed her hands in his and let him run his tongue over each finger. When she reclaimed them, she had ten little white scars.

"Vampire spit can heal only medium to minor wounds, like these ones. The little scars you now have are your mark of the vampire. You will always have them and it will let others know what you are and how you became it."

"So," Darcy said while Mr. Crepsley helped her to her feet, "it's finished, I'm a half-vampire."

"Yes, but it is far from being finished. You may feel normal now, but eventually your body and mind will adjust to your new vampire blood."

She nodded, not understanding everything, but accepting that there will be time later for explanation, but now they needed to leave as soon as possible and get to Steve. They needed to get him the cure before it was too late!

* * *

Once they climbed out of her window, Mr. Crepsley picked her up and tossed her over his back.

"What are you doing?" She screeched.

"Hold onto my neck tight, no sudden movements," he said, grasping her arms closer to his body, "and do not breathe."

Then suddenly the world around them began to blur into colors of dark blue, gray, and black. Looking down Darcy notice Mr. Crepsley hardly moved his legs, and then realized that was only because he moved them so fast. _So this was flitting_. Her dark brown hair whipped around them in furious breeze, becoming increasingly tangled.

The world froze and with a quick look around Darcy saw they had arrived at the hospital. Already? The distance from her house to the hospital usually took ten minutes by car. Mr. Crepsley only needed five!

"So which room is your boyfriend in?" He asked, looking up at the tall building.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, brushing her messy hair with her fingers, and she told him which room Steve was in.

He counted the windows and, when he figured which one was it, he asked her to hop onto his back. When she was in place he walked over to the side of the building and slipped off his shoes. Using his sharp finger and toe nails he stabbed them into the brick and began climbing up the wall.

"Vampires nails are very strong," he said, "but even if we do fall vampires are good at landing on their feet, so do not panic."

He dug his nails into the wall, hand over hand, foot over foot, and they scaled at a steady pace. Soon they approached Steve's window and he hoisted Darcy and himself on the ledge. She looked in and saw Steve asleep in his bed; he was in the room all by himself. Mr. Crepsley dug his finger nails in and wedged them between the window and the sill. He heaved and the window gave, lifting up easy, and with the nod of the head he motioned her inside.

The moment Darcy was within the room, she was quickly at Steve's bedside. She hadn't seen him since he was rushed off the ER, and she wasn't given a chance to tell him how sorry she was.

As Mr. Crepsley slipped into the room, Darcy placed her hand in Steve's and whispered, "You're okay, now. Everything's going to be just fine." Her heart wilted when she felt how freezing and lifeless his skin was.

"We may be too late," he said softly, then quickly added when Darcy whimpered in despair, "but I will try." He went up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Delicately, he moved her to the side so he could lean over Steve. Picking up the arm with the hand Darcy had been holding, he placed the fingernail of his thumb over the vein in the crook of his elbow. In a quick motion, he stabbed his fingernail in the vein, piercing it. He immediately induced pressure on the open wound, and then reached into his dark-red jacket pulling out a small crystal vial full of clear liquid. He brought the serum to his lips and poured its contents in his mouth. Then he covered the wound at Steve's elbow with his mouth and blew the liquid into him. When he was done he sat back up, wiping his mouth.

"So it's done?" Darcy asked anxiously, "He's going to be okay?"

He nodded, "Steve Leonard should be walking around by morning and doing somersaults by dinner."

As if on cue, Steve's head twitched and painful groan escaped his lips.

"You see," Mr. Crepsley said, waving a hand over her friend, "he is alive."

"But nothing bad will happen to him, right? He won't be living one day, and then dead the next?"

"No, he will be stiff and catch illness easily, but that is all."

Suddenly Steve's eyes flashed open. He stared at Darcy, and then his eyes went wide when they saw Mr. Crepsley. He tried to say something.

"What's that Steve?" Darcy asked, leaning close to him. She tried to make out words, but before she could, her friend's eyes went blank and closed again. She gasped, "Steve!"

"He is fine," Mr. Crepsley said urgently, "We must leave."

"Please," she begged, "could we stay a little longer just to be sure he's okay?"

He turned to her and narrowed his eyes, "You mean just to be sure I have not tricked you?" Her silence answered everything. He looked down at her reproachfully, "So, you do not trust me."

Her face heated under his intense gaze and she looked away from him to Steve. She leaned forward and stroked back the light brown hair from her friend's face. "I just want to make sure," she mumbled.

"But there is no time," he growled and he made for the open window. With one leg swung over the ledge, he held his hand out to her, "Come, Darcy, we must leave together, now."

Darcy stared at his hand, then at Steve, then to the door to the hospital room. Her eyes went slowly back to Mr. Crepsley.

He saw the defiance in her eyes and his open hand slowly fell, "No, Darcy, you will not do this. You cannot back out of our deal."

She stared into his cold eyes, thinking a moment.

Then she made a dash for the door.

"No!" She heard him shout at her back.

She had swung the door wide open, ready to flee when she suddenly felt strong arms wrap around her body and pick her up off the ground.

Darcy screamed. "Let me go!"

His breath was hot on her ear when he said, "I am sorry, Darcy, but I will not let you break your promise, it is for your own good." He began to force her back into the room towards the window, "You will thank me one day."

But she would have none of it. She wriggled as violently as she could, but his grip around her was too strong. So she gasped in several lungful of air and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"HELP!"

Mr. Crepsley tried to hold a hand over her mouth, but she tore her face to the side taking in more air.

"Help me! I'm being attacked!"

To her relief, lights flashed on somewhere down the hall and shouts could be heard from doctors and nurses in return. Mr. Crepsley growled furiously and dropped her to the ground. He spun on his heel and made a leap for the window. Before disappearing over the ledge, he perched there, looking back at her with fury flashing in his eyes.

"You will regret this, Darcy Shane. You can run all you want, but you cannot change who you are! Remember my blood now runs through your veins. You will be back, Darcy, begging for help! And I will be waiting." Then he sprung up from the window and fell, vanishing from sight.

_And I will be waiting_. His words burned into her brain, repeating over and over like a stuck CD as she sprinted from the room and escaped the hospital to the dark and cold streets.

_I will be waiting_.


	11. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Eleven

Darcy sprinted from the hospital all the way home, all the while feeling eyes piercing into her back. Her breath came out like fog in the freeze of the evening. She looked over her shoulder periodically expecting to see the vampire's tall form leaping after her. She looked up into the trees, just to make sure no one in particular was hiding up in them. Could vampires even jump from tree to tree? Like monkeys . . . or bats. She wasn't even sure if vampires really could turn into bats. She had failed to ask Mr. Crepsley that, but now it was too late to ask him anything. The run home really gave her a chance to think about her situation.

She was a half-vampire now.

She didn't feel it, but he said so himself it would become apparent eventually. He also said half-vampires didn't need to feed on as much blood. There was no way she was going to drink a humans blood. _Disgusting! _Feeding on human's blood would make her a monster, she just couldn't do that. She _wasn't_ a monster. Not yet. So as she forced her legs to pump faster at her sides, she decided, whole-heartedly, she was never going to feed from a human. In the meantime, she was just going to act like nothing has happened. She will get on with her life, go home, go to school, and Mr. Crepsley will just have to go on with the Cirque and leave town. She could do this.

When Darcy came home, her bedroom window was still open, so she scaled the side of her house and jumped inside. None of the other window lights were on so she knew everyone was asleep, leading their normal lives. Now she will go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow to try to lead her own normal life.

* * *

Darcy woke up the next morning to the best news she ever heard in a long time.

"I just got a call from Steve's mom! His condition has changed for the better; he's going to be alright!" Dad wrapped his arms around Darcy, picked her up and swung her in circles.

"It's a miracle!" Mom said, beaming. She promised Darcy they could all go to the hospital after breakfast that morning.

When Darcy and her family arrived at the hospital, a grinning doctor in a white coat waved Darcy over and they all let her have a moment alone with her friend. She poked her head inside the door and saw Steve sitting up in bed with a controller in his hand, watching TV. His color had improved dramatically since last night, and the welt where Madam Octa had bit him was reduced in swelling. Darcy knocked on the hospital room door and Steve looked over from the TV set to her. His face broke out in a beaming smile.

"Hey, D," he said, "What's up?"

"What's up with _me_?" She asked, thinking, _you don't want to know_, but said, "What about you? How're you doing?" She walked over to him and sat on the edge of his bed.

He shrugged, glancing at the TV, "Never been better; I woke up this morning and could've ate a whole horse, I was starving."

"Well, you're eating, that's good."

"Yeah," he sniffed, "but apart from that, I think I'm coming down with a cold."

Darcy flinched; she remembered what Mr. Crepsley said last night after he gave Steve the antidote; it was something about him catching illnesses more easily.

She focused back on Steve and replied, her eye twitching, "Oh, that's weird."

"Yeah," Steve remained silent a moment, like he was deep in thought, or was too hesitant to share his thoughts.

"What's up?" She asked.

He blinked and looked at her, "Oh, I just remembered something else that was kind of weird." He laughed curtly, and shook his head, "But it's kind of crazy, it must've been a dream."

Darcy inched toward him on the bed, and she asked innocently, "W-what's weird?" Did he know something about her change? Her hands began to sweat and she rubbed them on her jeans.

"Well, it happened late last night, at least I think it was late, because it was really dark in here, and I heard voices talking." He stared hard at her. "I heard your voice. I opened my eyes and I saw what I thought looked kind of like you, with the long brown hair, and the other figure was tall, with shocking orange hair, just like Mr. Crepsley." He narrowed his eyes, "So I was just wondering if maybe you stopped by last night, and if he happened to be here with you."

Darcy gaped. He had been in a coma, how could he possibly remember that? It must've been the cure the vampire gave him; it must've worked faster than she thought. She bunched the edge of her jacket with restless hands, staring at the floor. She couldn't meet his eyes.

Before she would say anything Steve said, laughing, "Nah, that would be crazy; I'm sure it was just a dream." He sighed, "Anyway, if you two had been there, he would have totally killed you, right? For taking his things." He shrugged, and looked back at the TV. "But it had to be a dream. Oh, and you know the other thing? I heard rumors from the nurses they heard some young girl screaming last night near my room, saying she was being attacked, creepy huh?"

Darcy nodded slowly, looking at Steve out of the corner of her eye, "Yeah, really creepy."

* * *

When Mr. Crepsley said the changes in her would become apparent eventually, she didn't know he meant so soon! She noticed differences in her body by Monday at Mettlesome high. First it was her hearing; she was walking down the busy hallway, getting to class when she glanced at two girls talking all the way at the other end of the hall. One was crying about some boy, her friend was telling her she didn't need some stupid guy to make her happy. She heard their whole conversation while surrounded by hundreds of other voices that filled her head. If she concentrated on one person, the volume of their voices would rise, when she looked away, it faded. Her body also became physically stronger. Her muscles didn't grow or anything, she just felt a flowing energy throughout her, allowing her to do hundreds of push-ups or sit-ups, or run a mile in five minutes.

She was suddenly getting noticed by people in her peer group that never knew she existed before. The popular crowd of jocks were impressed with her new athletic skills, and one guy even asked for her number. She liked this new attention, but she knew it was for all the wrong reasons.

Monsters don't deserve to be liked. If everyone knew who she really was, it would be a "Grab your torch and pitchforks!" party. She would be the freak of Mettlesome high school, no, of the whole town!

While getting noticed by more guys was really fun, Darcy knew that while she_ is _at the top, the only way to go is down, and by Thursday, down was exactly where it went. Her whole world came crashing down by the ears.


	12. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Twelve

By Thursday Steve was well enough to be in school, and he and Darcy were shooting hoops in PE class. All day she had been avoiding Steve, wondering whether she should tell him about what she now was. Something in her mind told her that would be a bad idea; being a half-vampire was what _he_ wanted, if he found out, she would be the butt of his notorious bad temper. She hated it when Steve was mad at her. By the time P.E. rolled around, she decided telling him about her could wait.

"I can't believe you actually _want_ to be in school," she said to Steve, dribbling the basketball, "_You?"_

He laughed, "I know, right. It was cool at first, just hanging out, watching TV and eating, but, I don't know, it just got to be so _boring_. I actually started missing homework."

"Whoa," she remarked, passing him the ball.

"Yeah, I just got this feeling like I belonged in school. When I told my mom this, she _freaked_ out!" He chuckled, doing a lay up.

As she watched him show off his moves, Darcy thought about belonging. Did she still belong in school? Vampire-assistants didn't need math, art, social studies, or nothing. She didn't need to be here. She wondered what she would be doing right now if she had left with Mr. Crepsley. Polishing his shoes perhaps. Darcy laughed.

"What's so funny?" Steve asked, tossing her the ball.

"Nothing," she mused, and because of her new vampire strength, she performed a perfect lay up, nearly flying through the air.

"Wow," Steve said when she landed gracefully back on the ground, "You been practicing?"

"Um," she looked away, spinning the ball on her finger, "yeah."

She missed the suspicious look Steve shot at her back.

The P.E. teacher split the class into teams and they did fake tournaments on the court. Darcy decided to tone down her athletic strength and let the other team make a few shots but not enough to win, of course. On the other team was Alana and Steve, and she let them get a point, then she get her team, with Tommy, a point, and then she'd let the others get one, and so on. Her teammates who knew she could do better chanted at her to show the other teams whose boss.

By the time there were ten seconds left in the game, Darcy was ready to dominate.

The other team was one point ahead and because there were only ten seconds left, they got cocky and passed the ball to Alana. Let's be frank, Alana wasn't the greatest basketball player; she never was much of the athlete, ever! Passing the ball to Alana was the other team's first mistake. Letting down their left defensive side was their second. Right when Darcy saw an opening, she shot after Alana like a raging bull. Within milliseconds, she was on the mousy girl's heels, fingers itching for the ball.

Alana didn't see Darcy coming, she was too concentrated on trying to keep control over the sphere in her hands, and she muttered under her breath, "I can do this! I can do this! I can do-!"

_Wham! _

Darcy's hands flew in front of Alana like baseball bats knocking the ball out of the park. She successfully stole the ball out from Alana's control, but Darcy was running too close beside her, their legs tangled and both of them went flying. Darcy landed on her feet, sprinting towards her end of the court. The call of the ref's whistle snapped her out of her zone and she stopped, and blinked, hearing the sound of screams.

"Ow! My leg!" Alana's voice echoed throughout the gym. Her little form sat hunched over her knees, rocking back and forth.

"God, Shane," taunted one of her teammates, "a little rough, you think?"

Darcy rushed to her friend's side to inspect the damage with the coach.

Immediately, she regretted it.

The teary-eyed Alana grasped her left knee to her chest. Over her knee was a scrape the side of the palm of her hand. And it was smeared with blood. Darcy's mouth went suddenly dry. Alana looked up at her, tears running down her face. She must've seen something odd, because the pain vanished from her face, confusion then taking its place.

Darcy fell to her knees in front of Alana and before she knew it, her mouth was covering the bloody scrape. She sucked greedily, drawing more warm blood and swallowing it with a content sigh. She drank on and on, savoring the taste of the blood as though it were liquid gold.

Gasps and shouts brought her immediately out of her jubilated state and she looked around. People were staring her like she was mad. She looked down to see her mouth was still on her friend's knee and she quickly sat up, scooting away.

Why had she done that horrible thing? She didn't want to do it, she never wanted to hurt Alana, but she couldn't help herself. In that short moment her lips were over the wound, she didn't think about anything else but getting that blood into her stomach. Darcy met every eye in the gym, frantic for some kind of explanation.

Then it came to her.

She jumped up, spreading her arms wide, "Just kidding!" She laughed theatrically, "I am the Vampire Queen of the night! I will suck your blood! Fear me!"

This was miraculously followed by a roar of laughter and scoffs of disgust.

"Good one, Shane!"

"You're crazy!"

Darcy's eyes fell on the only person that showed any emotion other than humor and disgust and that was Steve. And he looked pissed. She knew right away he was the only person not to be fooled by her charade. He knew what she was; she saw it in the dark look on his face.

Eventually the class was over and the P.E. teacher took her aside to tell her about blood spread diseases, and that she should never pull a stunt like that again. Of course she promised!


	13. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Thirteen

After school, Darcy quickly ran home so she didn't run into Steve. The taste of Alana's blood was still in her mouth and the first thing she did when she got home was rush to the bathroom and rinse her mouth out. She brushed her teeth twice and gargled mouth wash until her eyes stung. Hopefully she'll never have to experience something like _that_ again. She told herself next time she sees's blood she will be ready, and she will keep control.

Most of all she thought about what would have happened if she didn't stop drinking her friend's blood. Would she have been able to stop herself or would the desire be too much and . . .

Her thought were interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Darcy, you in there," Annie asked, "Can I come in?"

Darcy opened the door to see her sister waiting by the door in her bathrobe.

"Mind if I barge in?" She asked.

Darcy nodded and made room for her. Annie went to the bathtub and turned on the faucets.

"Are you okay?" She asked looking up from the bath.

Darcy lied, "Yeah, why?"

She shrugged, "You just seem a little different, kind of distant. Mom and Dad have noticed, too."

Darcy laughed curtly, "I'm fine. Same as I was yesterday."

"But the thing is, I've noticed you changed a lot since Steve got bit by that creepy spider you found." She gave her a knowing smile, "You really like him, huh? It's kind of romantic, actually, you feeling ill because Steve is, like you're one person. It's very _Wuthering Heights_."

"_You've_ read _Wuthering Heights_?" Darcy asked with a raised eyebrow at her little sister.

"Of course," she replied, offended, "I'm twelve years old, you know. I _can_ read," she looked over and saw the tub was nearly full with water and turned the faucets off. As she was bending over, Darcy's eyes focused on the curve of her neck, and suddenly her mouth went dry.

"As I was saying, you look-," she began, turning back around.

She stopped when she saw Darcy's eyes.

"Darcy?" she asked nervously. "Darcy, what are -?"

Darcy raised her right hand and Annie went quiet. She waved her hands around in slow motions, and her sister's eyes stared at them, hypnotized. She glided over to her slowly, not taking her eyes off the pulsing vein in her neck.

"Stand," Darcy growled. Her voice sounded deep and guttural, not like her own voice at all. Annie obeyed stiffly, her eyes blank. Darcy brought her fingers delicately to her neck and pressed firmly on the vein just below her chin. She could feel her sister's heart beat in her fingertips, the blood rushing through like a river. A whole, delicious, beautiful river of blood. She licked her lips at the thought, and with hooded eyes, opened her mouth, baring her teeth. The very tips grazed the surface of her skin, waiting for the precious moment of tearing the veins apart.

Then she stopped.

Just before she feasted, she caught her reflection in the mirror, and she was horrified by what she saw.

A monster.

Her eyes were black, with dark circles beneath, and red veins pulsed out making her face look wrinkled and ancient. Her teeth looked long and protruding like an animal's. The very first thought that came to mind was how much she looked like a demon straight out of Hell.

She blinked, like coming out of a steaming fog and took a haltering step away from her sister with a cry. Annie trembled, and looked around the bathroom as though just waking up from a dream, more like a nightmare. Her hazy eyes found her older sister whose back was to the corner with her head in her hands.

"What's going on?" She asked her voice soft. "That was so weird, I was just sitting over there . . . and now I'm here. Hey, are you okay?" She took a step toward her sister, holding out a hand.

Darcy flinched away, staring at her hand as though it were a snake. She shook her head violently and quickly stood, adding space between her and her sister.

"No. No, I . . ." Darcy could hardly force herself to meet her sister's questioning gaze. But she _had_ to look. Just one last time. "I have to go," she muttered, and she turned and fled to her bedroom.

When she was alone, she stood in the very center of her room, staggering on her feet, feeling as though she could scream her lungs out. _She nearly killed her sister_. She didn't even need to see any blood; all she had to do was think about it, and the monster within her was out of control. She was a danger to everyone now, to her friends, to her family. She couldn't be trusted.

The old Darcy Shane was gone.

She covered her face with her hands when she knew what she had to do.


	14. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Fourteen

She didn't even wait for her family to go to sleep to do it. By the time nine o'clock rolled around, she was gone, having snuck out of her bedroom window and out into the night. It took her no time at all to get to the old theater, at least that's how it felt, because her mind was so messed up from everything that has happened.

When she got to the theater, she hardly noticed the broken windows now, or the gray jagged spikes on the roof. The shadows no longer scared her. After all, how could she be afraid of what's under the bed when she _is_ the thing under the bed. She was now the source of all people's nightmares.

When she got inside, Mr. Crepsley was waiting for her.

He took one look at her and said, without blinking, "Who died?"

Darcy burst out laughing, but it dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing, and she hung her head, letting the tears fall out of her head.

"I was not joking, you know," he said, walking up to her, "I really want to know who died. Who did you kill?"

All she could muster was a small shake of the head. Mr. Crepsley brought up a hesitant hand, unsure of where to place it, and he settled with stroking back wet strands of brown hair from her face.

When she was able to take a normal breath of air she said, "I almost killed my s-sister. And I fed from my friend."

"You killed the Steve Leonard boy?" He asked, his eyes hopeful.

"No," she replied.

"That is too bad," he mumbled.

"I didn't kill anyone."

He nodded in relief, "You are very fortunate. Many kill those they love after they turn, when they are not as in control of their thirst."

Darcy looked up at him with red eyes, "Fortunate?" She spit at him, "No, Mr. Crepsley, there is _nothing fortunate _about my situation."

He looked at her sadly. "I know, Darcy," he replied softly, "I may be the only person in the world who truly knows what you are going through, and I am very sorry. No one deserves this." He paused, "But there is time enough in the world for that later. For now," he took her hand in his, "we have much work to do before we can leave this all behind together."

"What kind of work?" She asked, frowning up at him.

"Well, first off," he grasped her hand tighter and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear, "we are going to have to _kill you_."


	15. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Fifteen

On Friday night, Darcy Shane died . . . sort of. And on the following Sunday, she came back to life, metaphorically speaking.

The two days that followed after she accepted to join Mr. Crepsley have been saved to remember absolutely everything about her human life. She visited all of her favorite places around town. She went to school and did the best she could on her work. She played Barbie's with Annie, enjoying every minute. She did all of Mom and Dad's chores around the house, without being asked. _That_ was a first. She hung out with Tommy and went shopping with Alana. But Steve she avoided. She didn't think she could face him, not now he knows what she is.

Most of all she just listened to everyone's voices, so she could remember the sound. Perhaps they would give her comfort in the dark future that undoubtedly lay ahead of her.

It was Friday night, and Darcy was all ready for bed. Her stomach was full from dinner of homemade chicken pot pie; her favorite. She liked remembering the moments of sitting around the dinner table with her Mom and Dad and Annie. That way she will always think of them as a close-knit family. She wouldn't want to remember it any other way.

Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch, sipping wine and chatting. Darcy leaned into the room and told them goodnight.

They looked over the couch at her.

"Oh, goodnight, sweetheart, see you in the morning," Mom called.

_No you won't_, Darcy thought. _You may never see me ever again. _She walked over to her parents and lovingly kissed each of them on the cheek.

"I love you," she said, truly meaning it with all her heart. "I have always loved both of you, and I always will.

"Love you too, sweetie." Dad smiled giving her a bear hug.

Darcy walked out of the living room but hid around the corner to listen to their voices one last time.

"What do you think that was for?" Mom asked.

"Don't know," Dad laughed, "you never know with teenagers these days."

"She's been acting a little strange lately, haven't you noticed?" Mom asked.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend," Dad suggested.

"Maybe," Mom said slowly.

Darcy could tell Mom was thinking about asking Darcy about it later. But there wasn't going to be a later. She took slow steps away from her parents and with heavy, reluctant feet, walked up the stairs to her room.

Mr. Crepsley was waiting in her closet, and stepped out when Darcy came in.

He was dusting himself off, and said, half-joking, "I thought girls were supposed to be clean. I feel bad for Madam Octa she had to stay-,"

"Please," Darcy shot at him, glaring. He stopped dusting himself off and looked up at her with raised eyebrows, "Please, just stop. This has been my home for my whole life, and now I'm leaving it, most likely for forever, so just . . . don't talk."

His hands fell slowly to his sides, and as obeyed he walked over to her wordlessly. He reached into his jacket and brought out a crystal vial similar to the one that contained the clear serum for Madam Octa's venom. But the liquid in this was as black as death and shimmered somewhat in the light. He handed her the potion, and she held it as though her life literally depended on it. The potion was to make her appear dead. Not really dead, just look it, and it was going to make her heart and breathing slow down just enough it would be untraceable. Over time, about one and a half to two days, the potion's numbing would wear off and she would come back to normal. Or back to life, however which way she thought of it, it was just the same.

"So I just swallow it all down at once?" She asked, keeping her voice from quivering.

He nodded, and then stood behind her, placing his cool hands on her lower neck. He watched silently as Darcy uncorked the vial and brought it to her lips. She downed the black liquid in one gulp and handed it back to Mr. Crepsley when it was all gone. Immediately her lips and ends of her fingers and toes began to tingle and numb. She became frightened when her heart stopped. But it beat, very faintly, between long periods of time. She told herself over and over she wasn't really dying, just putting her life on pause for a couple days. Within seconds, all feeling in her body was gone.

"I'm going to break the neck, now," he said, and Darcy heard a little crack. "There." He bent over and scooped her up in his arms, then walked over to her open window and stepped up to the ledge. "If any more damage is done by the fall, I will be able to fix it later, when we see each other again."

If she had been able to use her muscles, she would have nodded in understanding. As he lifted her out of the window, she had a beautiful view of the night sky with blue and white stars winking down at her. Then she was falling, falling, her surroundings blending into a world of dark colors. Then a _thump_, and she was on the ground, next to her house. She didn't know how long she would have to wait, but it was strange to think that if she were really dead right now, nobody would know about it. Her parents, Annie, everyone would be going at their normal lives right now while Darcy Shane lay beneath her window "dead."

Eventually, a neighbor found Darcy with the help of their friendly golden retriever. Of course, he only thought she was passed out or sleeping at first. No one _ever_ first thinks someone is dead. The neighbor got the shock of his life when he rolled her onto her back and saw her lifeless eyes. Darcy heard his quick frantic steps away from her body, obviously going to go find her parents.

They returned soon afterward.

Dad sounded pissed, thinking it was all a joke. Mom was frantic.

Darcy knew the moment they saw her, because everything fell dead quiet. The silence was as long as it was horrible.

Then Darcy's ears were filled with screams.


	16. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Sixteen

While Darcy waited patiently as the doctors inspected her body, she thoroughly decided the absolute worst thing about "dying" was having to hear her family crying for her. Because the whole time she's considering this, she's thinking,_ I don't deserve this_. Namely, she doesn't deserve to be so mourned for so horrifically. She still couldn't get her mom and Annie's screams out of her head. Mom was in pieces and Annie just kept telling her to quit fooling around and wake up. Dad was the only rock in the raging sea; he cried when he was alone with her body while it was set up in the living room, but whenever other people were gathered about her, he remained strong for the others, strong for Mom. Strong for Darcy.

The day after her death, people were able to come say good-bye to her. It was the strangest thing for Darcy to hear everyone talk about her like she wasn't there. People weren't shy when they talked about her, either. Dad talked about the husband he wanted her to marry someday. Mom retold the story of when Darcy ran around the house as a baby, bare naked, except for a ballerina tutu. Annie told her about all the fun times they had, playing dolls, and walking down to the lake during the summer. She relayed memories of laying in the hot summer sun, and Darcy remembered with deep sorrow, that eventually she will never be able to enjoy the sunshine again.

If only Mr. Crepsley had given her something to make her sleep through all of this sadness.

The undertaker and his assistant had very little to do to Darcy in order to prepare her for her funeral. Her neck was broken, but she had no bruises to show for, so they just dressed her up in a sleek black dress, and colored her cheeks with blush in attempt to make her look _somewhat_ alive.

The day before her funeral, she lay on a table in the living room, listening to the peace and quiet. Her family had just gone to bed after wishing her sweet and sorrowful good-byes. That was the last time she would hear their voices before she will be nailed away in her coffin, and she had savored the sound of their voices.

All the while she waited for morning to come, she thought about what her new life as a vampire's assistant would be like. Mr. Crepsley didn't appear to be too unkind; perhaps, _maybe_, the two of them would have a chance of getting along with one another. He seemed to care, especially when he told her about how much he could relate to her feelings. She wondered if he, too, had family and friends he left when he became a vampire; maybe he had a woman he loved.

Did she have a man in her life she loved? The only person who popped into her mind was Steve. But did she love Steve? No, she was afraid of him at times, but mostly she felt only a certain companionship with him, _not brotherly_, but . . . not just friendly. She couldn't explain it, but she felt like she couldn't imagine herself with any other person, despite how much she feared him.

If she didn't have someone she loved in her life now, was she ever going to find someone in the future? Who could ever love a monster like a vampire?

Darcy was filled with dread, feeling awfully lonely. She had no one. No one except Mr. Crepsley.

The creak of a door opening interrupted her thoughts. She could tell the noise came from the front door to her house. Who was here at this hour? She heard footsteps on the wood panel floor slowly and steadily approach her. Whoever it was, it couldn't be Mr. Crepsley, they weren't to meet until later. The footsteps became so close, she could sense whoever it was standing over her. She began to feel afraid. Where they going to hurt her?

A clammy hand pushed up her eyelids and shined a bright flashlight into her eyes; the light was too bright for her to see who held the flashlight. Next her intruder stuck a bitter tasting piece of paper in her mouth, and while that stayed there, they pricked a needle into her arm. The potion was still keeping her numb enough, she hardly felt it, only a little tugging on the skin. The bitter piece of paper was taken out, and the _strangest thing_, they picked up her fingers and examined them, followed by the flashes of camera lights. They were taking pictures of her fingers?

Darcy heard the intruder rummage around their things, no doubt putting everything away, and then she listened to their footsteps leave her and fade. Finally, the front door closed, and the house fell back into silence.

Her encounter with the stranger occupied her mind all the way until morning when her body was carried delicately into a coffin. She could see light through her eyelids, and when they placed the lid over her, she was engulfed in darkness. Cries followed her all the way in the hearse and over to the cemetery. She was to be buried with the other deceased Shane's, and when she was lowered into the ground, six feet closer to hell, she had the horrific feeling she really was joining her ancestors. She could sense her grandparents a couple feet away in the dirt. She imagined hearing their whispering voices, greeting her to death.

That was when she _really_ began to freak out.

As shovelfuls of dirt pounded the top of her coffin lid, she started having doubts. What if she was left here for good? What if something happened to Mr. Crepsley, and he couldn't make it to her in time? Or worse . . . what if he was going to leave her here on purpose? Steve's voice rang through her head over and over, "Vampire's hold hellish grudges." What if this whole plot was only Mr. Crepsley's way of giving her the ultimate punishment for stealing his things?

Darcy didn't want that to be true with all her being. She tried to think of nothing but the hurt in Mr. Crepsley's face when they snuck into the hospital, "So, you do not trust me," he had said. He wanted her to have faith in him. Why was that so hard? She needed him now, no matter how much she hated to admit it. The vampire was her only guide. Without him, she would be lost in the new world of being half-vampire.

The voices above her faded more with each shovelful of dirt. Eventually, Darcy heard the workers pile on the last of the earth and pat the ground firm with their shovels.

Then silence.

The only sounds that could be heard was her breathing and the pounding of her heart, both of which increased as the effects of the potion wore off. As feeling came back to her body, her muscles tingled, and she was covered in itches. Mr. Crepsley had warned her about the "discomfort" that would come, but she wasn't expecting the feeling as though millions of bugs crawled all over her body. Her black dress came up to above her knees, so she could easily reach her fingers down and scratch away. She groaned aloud at the little space she was limited to. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for her, but she still had to force herself to calm down to keep from thrashing about madly.

Apart from her sense of feeling coming back, which brought a lot of pain in her back and neck when she fell, she also had to worry about running out of air. The coffin was small, barely enough for her body to fit, and she was very much aware of how much air she was using. She counted from one to one hundred to keep herself calm in order to use as less air as possible.

Then . . . was that the sound of digging? At first she thought it might have been wishful thinking, but within merely minutes she knew for _sure _she heard the crunch of metal on dirt. Mr. Crepsley had come for her, like he promised, and she felt a little tinge of gilt for having doubted him. It took the vampire only fifteen minutes to dig his way to her, compared to the grave-diggers half hour.

He knocked on the top of the coffin when he reached it and Darcy knocked back to let him know she was okay, then he began unscrewing the lid. She waited, anxious to get out of the tight space and into the open. When the lid gave and was lifted, Darcy was blasting with a breeze of fresh air. She looked up and saw Mr. Crepsley standing above her. A beautiful night sky haloed his head with the bright full moon shining over his shoulder.

"How are you?" He asked looking down at her.

She gave him a weak smile and held a hand up to him. He grabbed it and pulled her out to her feet. Her legs and bottom were sore after laying in the small space all day. Had it really been all day? It seemed shorter than that?

"Time sure flies when you're having fun," Darcy joked.

He grinned and massaged her lower neck with his pale hands. She winced and he said, "Let me take a look at you and make sure no more damage has been done." He ran his fingers lightly down her back, checking her ribs and spine, and then her collar bone. "Everything seems to be in order," he said, "you are very fortunate."

Darcy flashed him a look when he said that word, 'fortunate.' Again, she didn't think herself fortunate in the least. She watched as he nimbly climbed out of the grave, then reach a hand down. She grasped his hand, and he lifted her out as though she weighed nothing more than a bag of flour.

As she dusted dirt off her black dress, Mr. Crepsley asked, "How is the pain, not too bad?"

She had prickles running up and down her legs from lack of movement. "I could use a walk," she said.

"Go ahead and walk out the stiffness while I fill the grave," he said as he picked up the shovel once again.

"You sure you don't want me to help?" Darcy asked.

He smirked over at her out of the corner of his eyes, "I am sure, my dear, go ahead."

Darcy turned to walk away, but froze and slowly turned back around. "Um, Crepsley?"

He was digging away with inhuman swiftness, and without looking back at her he replied, "Um, Darcy?"

She swallowed before saying, "While I was down there, in my grave, I started having doubts."

He stopped then and looked at her, his face hard, "What kind of doubts?"

". . . I started to doubt whether you were going to come for me or not." Her voiced choked; she looked away in shame. "A part of me worried you would leave me down there, to die."

He said nothing, only looked at her as still as a statue.

"And," she said, after a pause, "I'm sorry I didn't have trust in you." She glanced at him through her eyelashes.

Mr. Crepsley considered her for a moment, tilting his head to the side. Then he nodded slightly, a smile growing on his lips.

"How about you go for that walk, Darcy," he replied simply, then went back to his digging.

She watched him a moment, thinking, and then without a word went for a stroll among the graves.


	17. A Living Nightmare: Chapter Seventeen

The cold night air was refreshing after being in that coffin all day, but after a short while she shivered, realizing her dress wasn't much for warmth. She looked around in the darkness, and because of her vampire blood, she had the ability to see far in the distance as though it were day. She spotted a willow tree off to the side and walked over to it to rest her sore legs. The bark was rough against the back of her arms and legs, but the whispering of the leaves in the wind was calming.

A twig snapped somewhere behind and she turned to look.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her behind the willow tree, hidden by a couple large headstones and ultimately out of Mr. Crepsley's line of vision. Darcy gasped, inflating her lungs to their absolute maximum, and prepared to scream out to Mr. Crepsley. But her attacker was quick, and unwound their arm from her waist and swiftly slapped a cold, sweaty hand over her mouth. Whoever it was moved their body out from behind Darcy, and they pushed a hand into her chest, slamming her to the cool ground. The air rushed from her lungs at her stranger's forcefulness, and her eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

Darcy's new half-vampire eyes allowed her to penetrate the darkness, making everything appear as though the sun were just setting. _Like twilight_, a voice spoke quietly in the back recesses of her mind. She used her vampire eyes to search out her attacker above, then, scaring the wits out of her, a heavy weight landed on her stomach, wedging her to the earth beneath.

Her lips parted to attempt another cry of protest. But her eyes locked onto the pair of familiar eyes above her and the air caught in her throat, choking off her exclamation.

Steve Leonard, her best friend and protector, lay above her like a looming creature of darkness only found in nightmares. His mouth was set in a down turned snarl, his brown eyes glaring down his nose at her fiercely. Darcy was usually accustomed to Steve's dark looks; once when they were in the third grade, the class bully called Steve's mom and bad name, and Steve glared at him, making the bully nearly pee his pants. That moment was one of many involving Steve the Hulk, but this time was different.

This time he had a crudely sharpened steak clutched in his fist, and it was aimed directly at her heart.

Darcy frowned up at her fearsome friend, shifting uncomfortably beneath his weight. Her lips puckered, ready to question, "What the hell?" But before she even utter a syllable, Steve poked her chest with the steak threateningly.

"Don't you dare move or I swear I'll run you through," Steve growled his voice deeper than usual. Darcy noticed his face was slick with sweat, and when he continued his left eye began twitching, "And you better not use any of your evil vampire powers, like turn into a bat."

Darcy still wasn't sure if vampires could even turn to bats, but she didn't dare tell Steve that. She was careful with her next words. "Steve, what are you doing?" She tried to laugh, but it came out dry and humorless. "You don't really want to kill me, do you?"

"Of course I do!" He exclaimed in whispered tones. "_You stole my life away!_"

"Stole your life?" Darcy gasped, "What're you talking about?"

"Don't be stupid, you know what I mean." Steve's hands were quivering and Darcy could now see he was utterly frightened. "You know I was the one who wanted to be a vampire, to be Mr. Crepsley's assistant, and to leave this craphole town. Why did he say 'yes' to you and 'no' to me? What makes you to flipping special? You didn't even want to be a vampire, you said so yourself, 'I would never be a monster.'" He leaned forward, his breath hot on her face. "I bet every breath of it was a stinking lie."

"No!" Darcy interjected, "It wasn't a lie. I can explain everything. I only became a half-vampire so I could save your life. My assistance to Mr. Crepsley in exchange for his cure to your spider bite."

"Lies," Steve said, shaking his head. "All of it is lies. That's a very likely story; couldn't you at least have the pride to think up something more imaginative?"

"Please, Steve, I know you're upset, but you don't want to kill me. You are my best friend-."

"I thought you were my friend, too, maybe even more, until you went behind my back!"

Darcy thought quickly. "If you kill me then it would surely piss Mr. Crepsley off. Would you be able to take on a full-grown vampire?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Steve hesitated, his eyes going blank, and she watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down with a swallow.

"Darcy!"

Both of them jumped at the call of her name. Mr. Crepsley sounded to be quite a few yards away, but coming closer. Steve snapped his head to look over his shoulder. The crudely sharpened pike had gone limp in his hand and Darcy could have easily swiped it away. Would Steve even notice? When he looked back down at her beneath him, the white's of his eyes shone in fear. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unsure of what to do.

Darcy ignored Steve's "deadly" weapon and replied, "I'm here!"

Steve stared at her, looking as though he were about to cry.

Mr. Crepsley responded, sounding like he were only a couple gravestones away. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" She replied, "I'm just, uh, resting for a moment."

"Alright, take your time," he called, "Come back when you are ready." They heard footsteps, dangerously close, slowly fade away.

Steve let out a breath he had been holding. They stared at each other for a while in mute silence.

"Steve," Darcy said in her caressing way whenever she was trying to persuade her friend. "It doesn't have to be like this. When I'm a full-grown vampire, I can just bite you and make you into one so we can be together. You could get what you've always wanted."

The fear in Steve's eyes slowly vanished and was steadily replaced with anger, more like pure lividness. With the flick of the wrist, he tossed his sharpened pike away in the grass. Without his brown brutal eyes leaving hers, he fell on her with his hands landing on either side of her head. He bent his head until it was painfully close to her face.

His breath came in short gasps when he said in a whisper as sharp as a knife, "_Never_. I would never share the same blood of a traitor."

Darcy winced when he spat "traitor" into her face. She noticed with a small wave of weariness Steve had the same hungry look in his eyes as the night they went to the club, when she was wearing her little red dress. A little snake of worry slithered in her belly as she once again found herself useless against Steve Leonard. He looked as though he were about to hurt her, and would her new half-vampire abilities be able to help her defend herself? On the other hand, she knew she never wanted to bring harm to her friend. She tried to convince herself that he was only distraught, and he would get over it given time to cool off.

"Steve," Darcy said quietly; her voice sounded pitiful and begging.

Steve blinked, and in a flash, he was gone. He untangled her body from between his knees and rolled over in the grass until he was crouched behind a large headstone. He said to her in hushed tones, "No, my life is no longer devoted to that of becoming a vampire, but the very opposite: a vampire hunter." He glared up at her through his lashes as he reached into his jeans pocket and pilled out something small and silver which glinted in the moonlight.

Before Darcy could stop him, Steve flipped open the pocket knife and sliced a small cross into the palm of his hand. He held his hand out to her and said in a strong voice, "I may not be strong enough now, but I swear to you, Darcy Shane, and upon this blood," drops slid off his extended hand into the grass, "that I will become the world's best hunter and every vampire's worst nightmare, and I swear I will not be content until I have you and your new boyfriend's head on a pike, stuffed with garlic."

Steve Leonard, her best friend, now worst enemy, shot up off the ground and sprinted away from Darcy into the shadows of the forest.

If only Darcy knew what the future lay ahead of her. If she did, she would have been smart enough to go after Steve, following the smell of his evilly delicious blood, and kill him. She and Mr. Crepsley could have easily discarded of the body and their future could have been made a little bit safer. But no one knows what happens in the future, and if Darcy did, then there would be no story.

So Darcy only watched as his shadows mingled with the many shadows of the trees. Already, she was beginning to put thoughts of Steve in the back of her mind, and began considering her own situation. She brought herself to her feet, wiping off grass from the back of her legs and dress. She left the company of the willow tree and joined Mr. Crepsley by her newly covered grave.

He looked over at her. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

Without looking up at him she replied, "Physically or emotionally?"

"Hm," he grunted as he picked up the shovel and crumbled it in his hands as though it were only made of paper. "I believe I can relate to how you feel emotionally. . ."

Darcy tuned and looked out into the distance at the city lights of her hometown. This was her _home_town. She was born and raised there, and now she was leaving it, perhaps forever. All she will have left are memories, and no matter how wonderful they are, she knew they wouldn't be enough to fill the heavy part of her heart that wondered if she will ever have a place to belong again. Apart from missing her hometown, she will miss the people that populated it even more. After all, wasn't it the people that made it home? Her parents, her sister, her friends, her teachers, even the people she always ran in to at the grocery store, she was going to miss them all, because they were familiar; they made up her home.

"Will it ever get easier? Leaving like this?" Darcy asked, biting her tongue to keep the tears from falling.

Mr. Crepsley joined her at her side, admiring the town lights. "It gets easier, but the feelings will never really go away. One day," he looked down at her, "I hope you will find yourself feeling at home once again."

_Doubt it_, Darcy thought melancholically, in no mood to think about the future. "Do vampires always feel this lonesome?" She asked, dreading the answer.

"Terribly so," he replied as he watched an escaped tear fall down her cheek. "But," he said in a strong voice that made Darcy turn her eyes away from the night lights to Mr. Crepsley. "It is the way of the vampires, always has been."

Darcy stared up at his prideful face, taking in his shock of orange curls, sharp eyes, and scars. At that moment he appeared like a hard and prideful man, whom for possibly the rest of her life, which was apparently going to be a very long time, he was going to be her teacher and companion. She had hated him for taking her home and family away, but how long-lived would that hate last? If they were going to be spending so much time together, tens of hundreds of years, wouldn't it be a good idea to consider this man her friend; it would sure make "life" easier.

Mr. Crepsley looked back down at her, returning her gaze.

_There will be time enough later to consider him a friend or not_, Darcy thought, _you could say we had all the time in the world_.

She nodded to him, mustering every ounce of energy to smile. "I'm ready now."

"Good," he replied in his booming voice, "because I am starving! And I am sure you are too."

Now that he mentioned it, her stomach rumbled as if on cue. Mr. Crepsley laughed in a way that made the hairs on Darcy's arms stand on end, and she dreaded what would be on their menu.

Without a word, he wound his warm, callused hand into hers and guided her toward the shadows of the trees, with their backs to the city lights. Together, the vampire and his assistant, disappeared, heading out into the great and terrible unknown . . .

To be continued . . .


	18. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter One

**Book 2**

**_CIRQUE DU FREAK_**

**THE SAGA OF DARCY SHANE**

**THE VAMPIRE'S ASSISTANT**

* * *

Darcy Shane shifted from one foot to the other, hugging her arms closer around her slender fourteen year old form. A frosty November breeze whistled passed, making her long dark brown hair quiver. Her nose was already bitten red by the cold, and runny, _really_ runny. She sniffled every minute or so. _I guess even half-vampire's get the stupid sniffles_, she thought, trying to refrain from using the back of her wrist to wipe the snot pouring unattractively out of her head.

Yeah, she was a half-vampire. It's been officially two months since she exchanged her adolescence for the life of her best friend's, Steve Leonard. Which, to say the least, wasn't all that bad; adults were always telling her how adolescence sucked: pimples, erratic emotions, and other unspeakable changes of the anatomy. But she would still have liked to experience some kind of teenage horror, like heartbreak after a week-long relationship. She wanted _something_ to remember about her childhood; Mr. Crepsley said these years will only seem seconds long compared to the many years a vampire will live.

Speak of the devil. Mr. Crepsley hissed down at her from his secret spot in the tree after she sniffled again for the hundredth time.

"Quiet down there! Can you not get a tissue? You will ruin our cover."

"Sorry," Darcy hissed back, looking up at his shadowy form between the branches, "I forgot to bring a tissue box before I was _nailed in my coffin and buried_!"

He groaned and waved a hand in the air, his way of ignoring her.

Darcy shook her head, taking a look around her. This time she tried to be a little quieter in sniffling. They were next to a sidewalk lined with tall oak trees in a quiet neighborhood. Fall had long since started and the ground was littered with dead crisp leaves from the oaks. As she shifted from one foot to the other to keep her body warm, the leaves beneath her feet crunched; it was almost as loud as her sniffling, so she tried to quiet that down too. _But it was just too dang cold!_

"How much longer, Crepsley?" Darcy said up to him, almost forgetting to whisper.

"Just wait," the vampire said in his deep velvety voice, "a good hunter knows patience, and it is _Mr_. Crepsley."

"_Mister_," she scowled under her breath, "Excuse _me_."

"What was that?" He asked sharply.

"Nothing."

"_Shh_," he hushed her, ignoring her complaints. "Someone is coming, get ready."

Darcy huddled her body against the tree _Mr_. Crepsley hid in, the bark cool and rough on her bare arms. She peered her brown eyes around the body of the tree, staring intently through the darkness down the sidewalk. An orange glow from tall street lamps lit up a man's form every couple yards. Her half-vampire eyes allowed her to see in-depth detail about the man from a far distance, and she was amused by what she saw. He was a middle-aged man, average height, nothing really special, except for his clothes which were nothing but a shirt and shorts. But they were dripping in Boy Scouts badges and uniform. A middle-aged Boy Scout . . . this will just be too easy.

A couple lamps down from them she saw the man glance over his shoulder, by the time he passed under the next orange glow his face was screwed up in worry. _Uh-oh_, Darcy thought, _he's the paranoid type, maybe not too easy_. The sound of his footsteps in the leaves started out normal paced: _crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch_. But as he drew nearer to them, he quickened: _crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch_. It was as though the Boy Scout could sense their presence, waiting for him to walk into their trap. She was used to this; their prey was always like frightened deer sensing a hungry wolf from yards away. It was rather impressive, in a creepy kind of way.

Boy Scout was two lamps away. Darcy readied herself, she knew the drill. One lamp away he looked over his shoulder again. She stepped out in front of him on the sidewalk. He faced forward and froze when he saw her. Like a deer in the headlights, his whole body stiffened, ready to spring away at the next sign of danger.

"Hello?" He said his voice high-pitched and quivering. _Man, he _was_ a Boy Scout_, Darcy thought. He took a step closer, which was what she needed; she need him standing just below the tree, just below a certain predator up above. She could tell when he finally made out she was only a kid, because his face washed over in relief, his shoulders relaxing. Darcy wondered at what the man saw before him: a slender girl in her young teens, dark brown hair falling over her shoulders, wrinkled black dress with short sleeves and hemline stopping just above her knees, and pale, _very pale_, milky white skin.

She stared, waiting for him to speak.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice filled with true concern, and a tinge of guilt quivered in her belly.

She didn't reply, just stared. _I wish Mr. Crepsley would just hurry up and get this over with_, Darcy thought. The less she knew about their victim the easier it was.

"Are you lost?" He asked, taking a small step towards her. "Do you need some help?"

She shook her head. _Of course I need help_, she yelled in her mind. _I need help from this life as a half-vampire. I need help getting my old life back. I need help from this monster that ruined me_. And as if on cue, a quick snap sounded and Mr. Crepsley left his perch in the tree. He flew, a blur of black and deep red, and landed on the man. To Darcy he looked as graceful as an acrobat, expertly winding his body to cover the man's scream, while at the same time making him unconscious with his vampire breath. The man hardly put up a fight, his human reflexes were nothing compared to that of a fully fledged vampire.

Darcy watched as Mr. Crepsley gently laid the unconscious man on the pavement. He crouched down next to the limp body, and she could hear him chuckling as he ran his pale fingers over one of the man's legs.

"To think a man of his age a Boy Scout," he leaned over and picked up the man's left hand, looking at a ring on his finger, "And he is actually married too." He chuckled again and let the hand fall limply, slapping against the pavement.

"I can think of worse men to marry," Darcy said, glaring at Mr. Crepsley's back, which had stiffened at her words. But after a brief moment he relaxed and scoffed as though brushing them away.

He set about his work again running his experienced fingers over the Boy Scout's leg, searching for an artery. When this was done he pierced the vein with one of his razor sharp finger nails. Blood, red and beautiful, flowed from the incision freely, and Mr. Crepsley quickly clamped his mouth over it. His eyes closed in satisfaction the moment Darcy had to turn her gaze away from the scene. She still couldn't stand watching a monster of the night feeding from a helpless human being. It made her feel criminal to be aiding Mr. Crepsley in such a thing as hunting people down to drink their blood. She was almost as much of a monster as her new guardian, except for the fact that she absolutely refused to drink human blood. She was still having a hard time coming to terms with her "vampireness"; not drinking human blood seemed to be the only thing in the world keeping her as human as possible.

This was their third time feeding and Darcy had yet to allow Mr. Crepsley to get her to drink from their prey. Each night they hunted was each time the vampire became less sympathetic and more fervent to get her to drink. Darcy was starting to wonder just how long until he would no longer take "no" for an answer.

She looked back at Mr. Crepsley when he spoke to her, "Alright, Darcy, it is your turn." He sat back on his haunches and peered at her over his shoulder.

Darcy saw a little droplet of blood falling from a corner of his lips. She watched as his tongue slid from his mouth and lapped up the rest of the blood. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I'm not hungry," she said, her voice cracking. Boy, was_ that _a lie.

Mr. Crepsley sighed, grinding his teeth, his jaw clenching. He knows she's lying.

"You have failed to drink the last times we have hunted," he said, the impatience obvious in his deep voice. "You need to feed, Darcy. Already you are growing weak. You may not need blood as much as a full vampire, but you need it just the same and soon or you will die."

Darcy crossed her arms over her chest, partly in showing defiance, but also because she was freezing. "Why do you care so much? You get your fill each time I help you hunt, what matter am I?"

Mr. Crepsley didn't reply, but looked at her hard. _What's going on in that brain of his_, Darcy thought. For a moment she wondered if he might actually jump at her and somehow force her to drink. The prospect of it made her shiver, and she quickly added, "I'll feed from a human, eventually, just not, you know, right now."

He seemed satisfied by this and looked away. "Alright, not right now, but you will eventually. I get it." He licked the tip of his finger and ran the saliva over the cut on Boy Scout's leg. The skin sealed itself over until all that was left was a little white scar. Darcy never got tired of seeing this. Despite vampires being monstrous creatures of the night, she loved their power to heal wounds with their saliva. She was actually looking forward to that day where she might develop that power.

"We will catch you a few rodents to feed on," Mr. Crepsley said, standing up from the body and stepping up to her. His tall, shadowy form loomed over her. "That should keep your tummy satisfied for a short while."

"Thank you," Darcy mumbled, looking up at him and tightening her arms around her. She was relieved. She can avoid drinking human's blood for a little while longer.

A small smile crept onto his lips in a mocking way, "I know when you say you will 'eventually' feed from a human, you mean 'never.'" His eyes narrowed down at her, "But do not think I will let you go on like this forever."

Darcy couldn't help it when scorn etched itself all over her face. When he said 'forever' he meant it. She was going to spend the rest of forever, or however many years vampires lived, with him, and his asserting power over her didn't make it any easier. She still hated him for taking her life away. The deal was she fall whim to his every need to whatever he demanded, and he had yet to demand something she couldn't handle. She did simple things so far, like carrying some of his belongings and even cooking. Vampire's need human food as well as blood, which Darcy was relieved to discover. He taught her a few cooking recipes and sometimes it was up to her to come up with the meal. She wasn't bothered for now, but she kept it close in mind Mr. Crepsley could demand she do anything else, and it might not be as easy as cooking next time.


	19. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Two

When Darcy woke, the sun was setting outside the tightly shrouded hotel window. She sat up in bed looking over at Mr. Crepsley's lump of a body beneath the bedcovers next to her. He had pulled the comforter over his head to keep out any sunlight, and he had used his dark red coat to cover the window. The room was still dark with small rays of light peeking through the little seams in the coat. The clock on the bedside table flashed four forty-five PM. Darcy went to bed the same time Mr. Crepsley did, just before dawn, but she didn't have to wait until evening to wake up like he did. That was one of the little advantages to being half-vampire.

She slipped out from under the covers, making sure not to tug too hard so she didn't wake Mr. Crepsley. If he did wake up before the sun was completely set he was usually very grumpy about it and complained a lot. She disliked the idea of sharing a bed with the vampire, having to sleep so close to him, but when she asked if she could have the bed to herself he refused stubbornly and said she could have the floor if she had a problem with sharing. Of course she had a problem, but the hard hotel floor was more uncomfortable than the many barn floors they had been sleeping in before she demanded they sleep in hotels. The whole reason she wanted to stay in a hotel was so she could get a bed for once; so if she had to share, so be it.

Mr. Crepsley refused to stay in a hotel at first. He usually sticks to barns and abandoned warehouses, but after a week of the cold, Darcy was sick of roughing it. He grumbled stubbornly, but thankfully he gave in to her wishes. It was nice to know he was somewhat negotiable.

To pass the time, Darcy turned on the TV and sat on the floor with her back against the end of the bed. She could have taken a stroll outside, watched the sun set, and be around other people, anyone besides Mr. Crepsley. But she was afraid. What if people took one look at her and knew she was a monster? What if she got into trouble? Mr. Crepsley was the only one that could help her, because he was the only one who understood. For now she stuck close to the vampire, since she was still new to the whole life-style. He said any vampire was completely useless on its own without the proper knowledge. Mr. Crepsley's teachings were the only thing keeping her alive, so she preferred to stay close by.

For the past two months, Darcy had transformed somewhat more into the vampire she was anticipated to become. She was stronger, faster, had more energy. She was unlike any fourteen, nearly fifteen, year old kid. One day when she was feeling particularly lonely Darcy asked Mr. Crepsley if there were many vampires around her age. She was sorry she asked because he got really worked up about it. He said children usually weren't allowed to be blooded, not even into half-vampires! He said there were very few because most were killed by some group Mr. Crepsley called the vampire Generals; when Darcy asked who they were he simply replied they were like the vampire police. Great! Police who kill children. Darcy asked if she was in any kind of danger from these Generals, but Mr. Crepsley dropped the subject, ever as stubborn as an ass.

While "Wheel of Fortune" flashed on the TV screen, Darcy chewed on her fingernails. They were very hard and grew faster than usual. They could get so sharp that if she wasn't careful she could shake a human's hand and tear their wrists open. Also, if she didn't tend to her nails, just one swipe over her clothing tore a clean hole through the fabric. She was covered in gaping holes, chilling her to the bone whenever a breeze blew by. She had wanted to ask Mr. Crepsley if she could buy more clothes, but she always stopped herself. Just the thought of going shopping at the mall for ladies clothing with Mr. Crepsley seemed too . . . it just didn't sound right in her head and she threw the thought away. She must have looked like a zombie to onlookers, with her shredded, threadbare funeral dress, pale complexion and sunken eyes.

Darcy wondered if Mr. Crepsley had noticed how ticked she was she had walk around in public with the same clothes she had worn for two months. It was just unnatural! Couldn't her parents put a jacket on her before they put her in the ground? Or a change of clothes? Or food for that matter? No, she knew that was ridiculous, but thinking about it at least put her mind off. She didn't have a jacket to wear during the night while they traveled, but Mr. Crepsley always lend his coat to drape over them while they slept during the day. It was small, infrequent acts like that that made Darcy notice the vampire wasn't all bad. Sometimes he could be okay. He took some risk on himself by sharing his coat, his only cover from the sunlight, while they slept outdoors.

The first time he offered to share the protection of his coat, she was very reluctant because she didn't want to sleep so close to the man. But the cold autumn air was bitter, and her suffering could be unavoidable if she just toughened up. So she had slipped under Mr. Crepsley's outstretched arm that held onto one end of his coat. When she was snug against the welcoming warmth of his body, he dropped his arm which fell across her small frame while still holding the flap of his coat closed. Without the fresh air, Darcy was enveloped in Mr. Crepsley's familiar metallic smell of blood. The stench was unbearable for the first couple minutes, but she got used to it and quickly fell asleep.

Darcy came back to the present when one of Mr. Crepsley's snores droned through out the hotel room. They still shared with the blankets, but it was less awkward for her because there was more room in the bed and she didn't have to sleep so close to him. It was enough she had to travel with the monster.

Darcy peeked over her shoulder at the lump on the bed. It would still be a couple more hours now until he woke up. She didn't have to stay here the whole time. Sure, she was the vampire assistant, but he didn't own her like a slave; she could come and go as she pleased as long as she returned to him. Darcy felt her heart quicken at the opportunity to be on her own. She quickly found a pen and paper and wrote a note to Mr. Crepsley that she was going for a walk and would be back. She hoped he would trust her if he read the note and not felt compelled to leave the hotel to go after her. She wanted this little bit of freedom; it was partly a test on how much freedom Mr. Crepsley was going to let her have.

She felt safe when it was dusk because the dim light made it hard on the human eyes, and her _unique_ appearance wasn't so obvious.

It was a small town, a place where everyone knew everyone; except for the tall man with weird hair and the girl who arrived there early morning. Since winter was on its way, every tree that lined the sidewalks were lit up with twinkling lights, and shop windows gave promise to large holiday savings. Darcy browsed a couple shops, looking at clothing she wished she had instead of her funeral dress. She looked at the jewelry that were on display in lit cabinets, and although most of them were beautiful, none matched the radiance of Mr. Crepsley's blood-red pendant. She still thought of his necklace often. Every day they slept side-by-side she thought about how the pendant was _right there_, within reach under the opening of Mr. Crepsley's shirt. Darcy told herself she could take it when she wished once the master vampire was fast asleep, but another part of her mind knew she didn't want anything to do with the pendant. After all, the blood necklace was the whole reason she was a half-vampire; it was entirely the stupid, beautiful pendant's fault she was a monster.

Suddenly tired of the old small-town shops, Darcy left and strolled along the sidewalks until she heard kids calling to each other. She walked ahead, and around a corner she saw a group of boys and girls playing basketball on an outside court. They were around her age, and she realized just how much she craved the company of other kids. Mr. Crepsley wasn't the greatest companion at the best of times, and over these past two months she had become really lonesome.

Darcy stood at the edge of the court watching them pass the basketball back and forth. She remembered the last time she played basketball; it was in P.E. and she had totally dominated. Her new half-vampire abilities made her better than the other students. But that was also the first time she sucked real human blood, and it was from her friend Alana. Darcy shivered at the memory; everyone had looked at her like she was crazy. But for a second there, the taste of the warm juicy blood _had_ made her crazy.

"Hey, you!" A boy's voice called out.

Darcy blinked away her thoughts and looked up at the group of kids. The boy that supposedly called to her strutted over with the basketball tucked under one arm. He was tall and gangly with black hair.

"Hey, you!" He said again, "What are you doing?"

For a moment Darcy thought about turning around and running away and her leg muscles flexed ready to do just that. But she stopped herself and crossed her arms over her chest to look tough.

"Doing whatever I want," she replied.

The boy holding the basketball laughed, but the others looked interested.

"Hey, look at her clothes," a younger girl said, "She looks funny."

"Yeah, like someone out of the _Adam's Family_."

"Or the bride of Frankenstein."

That got a couple laughs, but Darcy didn't back down. She explained, "My, um, uncle and I lost our baggage on the plane ride over here. They had all our clothes and money and stuff." She waved a hand over her funeral dress, "So I'm stuck with this."

"Oh, that sucks," the black-haired boy said, nodding his head in sympathy. He looked around at the group behind him, "Hey, uh, you wanna play? We could use another player." Other kids said their approval.

Darcy grinned, "Yeah that would be cool. Thanks."

"Okay, cool," the boy said. He passed the ball to her, "Let's hope you suck at basketball 'cause I'm putting you on my opponent team."

Darcy stuck her tongue out at him teasingly and joined a group of three so they played four on four. She checked the ball and the game began. Within minutes they were 10-5. Darcy weaved between the players with ease. _They move so slowly_, she thought as she strolled up to the basket and tossed the ball in. Well, to her it felt like strolling, to the others she must have been sprinting at top speed. She tried to keep herself in check and keep her vampire abilities to a minimum. But the temptation to show off to these new kids was too much; she really wanted them to like her.

"Come on! Pass the ball! Quit being a ball hog!"

Perhaps they liked her too much. Throughout the game she neglected to share the fame by not passing the ball; well, why should she do that when she is obviously the most skilled player? One player liked her so much they elbowed her in the gut when she jumped up to make her thirtieth shot. Surprisingly, _that really hurt_. And she missed the shot, so it kind of pissed Darcy off. She fell to her butt on the cement and the ball was gone, already making its way to the other side of the court. She shot to her feet and glared around accusingly.

"Who did that?" She shouted angrily. "Who elbowed me?"

After the other team scored, everyone stopped and stared at her. The tall boy with the black hair walked up to her, dribbling the ball in front of him.

"You weren't playing fair," he said, looking down his nose at her; obviously he was the head of the group used to giving the orders.

"But you fouled me! You call that fair?" Darcy shouted. A couple of the smaller kids took a step away, and she knew she could be scary if she wanted to be. She must look frightening with her sunken, hungry eyes.

The black-haired boy sneered at her. "Maybe you should learn to play fair," he passed the basketball to her hard and it hit her stomach as though it were a brick. "And then maybe I won't foul you!"

Darcy held the ball between white knuckled fingers, gripping it until if threatened to burst. Behind sharp, gritted teeth she hissed, "Maybe you need to accept you got beat by a girl!" And she shot the ball back at him, only when it made contact with his body there was a loud _crack_. He instinctively caught the ball and wrapped his arms around it as though it were apart of his body. He collapsed to the ground, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. When he tried to breathe, there was only a thin raspy sound as though something blocked his airways.

Kids called his name, falling to their knees at his side. One of them moved his arms and ran their fingers over his chest and stomach.

"Oh my god," they panicked, "I think something's broken! I think his ribs are broken, oh my god!"

Everyone glared up at her, and Darcy took a faltering step away.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" They shouted. One of the boys jumped up from the ground and waved their arms at her. "Get out of here you freak!"

Darcy bit her lip, and she looked down at the black-haired boy desperately, but there was nothing she could do. Tears filled her eyes as she turned and fled. She sprinted back to the hotel, ignoring people's questions as she passed them on the sidewalk. The breeze dried her tears, making her face crisp with salt.

When she burst into the hotel room, she passed Mr. Crepsley who just came out of the bathroom, and she collapsed onto the bed burrowing her face in a pillow that smelled like the vampire. She let herself cry freely, ignoring the footsteps that stepped slowly around the bed.

She had hurt someone, maybe even killed them! Was she destined to live the rest of her life completely deprived of human connection? What was the point in living if she couldn't even have one true friend?

Darcy was sobbing when she felt the bed bow under a weight next to her.

"What did you do?" Mr. Crepsley asked his voice low and steady. A stable rock amongst a storm.

She tried to speak, but the air caught in her throat.

"Did you feed?" He asked, he almost sound hopeful.

She shook her head, and when she was ready she explained to him what happened. When she was done, Mr. Crepsley laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "These mistakes will happen, especially to new vampires. But you must not accept this as defeat. You still have a long life ahead of you, Darcy."

And with that he began to pack his things; the sun was set, and it was past time for them to move on. He let Darcy sulk in bed while he gathered her things for her. When he was done, he took her hand and pulled her out of bed. They left the small town as quiet at the night when the whine of ambulances filled the air.

* * *

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	20. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Three

Darcy and Mr. Crepsley walked side by side in silence. The vampire looked over at her now and then, his eyes full of questions. She was sulking, as usual, and had retreated into her little shell the farther they traveled. Darcy was thinking about how much her life sucked right now. She thought about it more and more often lately. Mr. Crepsley had warned her life as a vampire would be lonely, but the incident at the basketball court was only proof to Darcy that it was very true. And it made her depressed. Mr. Crepsley usually stayed silent during her little bouts, she guessed he was used to her mood swings by now. That only made a part of her mad, when he didn't say anything, not a thing that could make her feel better. But perhaps that was because he knew nothing could.

They were walking along a road less traveled, millions of stars twinkling above, when they spotted the church. It was old and abandoned with moss growing on the cobble floor and ivy crawling up the walls. While Mr. Crepsley set to making a fire, he sent Darcy out to catch their food.

She actually enjoyed this part. Whether it was because she liked being on her own or liked moving about in the shadows of the night, she wasn't sure. Perhaps both. Whenever she went hunting in the evening, it was only she and the other creatures of the night. As she moved about the shadows, she felt at peace, like that was where she belonged. Before she became half-vampire, she would have been afraid of the dark, but now it was a part of who she was.

Within minutes of her hunt, Darcy had spotted a rabbit jumping between the tall blades of grass, no doubt on its way back to a burrow near by. Her half-vampire eyes stayed focused on the food, and she sprinted after it. The catch was easy; the rabbit was in her claws and was dead with a little flick of her wrist. It was a plump rabbit and would make for a nice pot of stew.

Mr. Crepsley was stroking the fire when she arrived; one of his fold out bowls full of water was boiling over the flames. When she showed him her catch he grinned.

"Well done," he said and sat back with a sigh as he watched her work.

Darcy had already skinned it outside and now cut it into sections and dropped them into the steaming bowl of water. The animal's blood covered her hands. A part of her mind thought she would go out to a stream and wash her hands, but before she could think anything else, her fingers were in her mouth as she licked away greedily. She closed her eyes in bliss as the taste of the red mercury spread in her mouth. Her hand was raw when she was done licking up every last drop. Her thirst was hardly quenched, and she looked down at her hands disappointedly. Her eyes flicked up and saw Mr. Crepsley was staring at her over the flames of the fire.

Darcy's face burned, knowing he had been watching her the whole time.

A smile played at his lips as he scrutinized her. He brought a finger up to his face and ran it along his scar thoughtfully.

"Your thirst is getting harder to control, is it not?" He said. "You need blood. And you know not just animal blood will do."

"I'm fine," Darcy said quickly.

"I am only concerned about you, Darcy," he continued. "If you do not consume human blood soon, either you will die, or you will do something you highly regret."

"I said I'm fine," she said louder and set her attention on the stew. She could feel his eyes on her as she dished out the meat and poured it into a couple fold out bowls. She thrust one of the bowls out to Mr. Crepsley without looking at him. When he didn't take it, she set it roughly on the ground next to him. Before she pulled her hand away, he quickly took it in his, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Say what you want to say, Darcy," he said. "You have a storm brewing within and you need to let it out or it will consume you. Talk to me, maybe I can help."

Her eyes narrowed. "Help?" She sneered, quickly reclaiming her hand. "You want to help me? Help me get my old life back!" She turned away, feeling the anger boil over. When she was a safe distance away she spun back around and spewed at the vampire. "You ruined my life the day you pumped your blood into my veins. Because of you I can't have any friends, not even shake a humans hand." She looked down at her own hands which were clenched into fists. "Because of you I have this horrible desire within me which becomes harder to control every day." She looked back at him, venom overflowing in her eyes. She finally shouted, "You made me into a monster!"

Her words echoed out into the church, reverberating against the heaven high pillars and arches. Those were the very words she had always wanted to scream at him. A weight lifted off her chest and she collapsed to the ground, folding her knees under her. The church was silent except for the crackle of the fire. She was close to tears, but she didn't want him to see her cry.

Mr. Crepsley was very quiet afterwards. She couldn't tell how he felt, and she began to wonder if she said too much. What if he was angered by her outburst? She had to admit it was rude of her, but didn't he deserve it for what he has done to her? Darcy sighed, she hated it when he was quiet, he could be thinking anything. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and opened her mouth to apologize.

But before she spoke, Mr. Crepsley said in a surprisingly soft voice, "I am sorry." He sat forward and stared into the fire. "It was a mistake. It was wrong of me to force you to choose to be blooded. You are young, after all. I did not think about you and your friends and family. I only thought of myself. It is just . . . I needed . . ." His voice trailed off into silence, and he hung his head with a deep sigh.

Darcy saw the misery in his face, forgetting for a moment she hated him. From the flicker of the flames she saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Guilt rose up in her body like a quivering snake. Why did she feel so bad for him? What did he need so much in order to ruin a young girl's life?

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I just needed to get that out; you're right, I feel better. I'm fine really. There's no use crying about it. What's done is done, right?"

He nodded. "What is done is done," he repeated. He wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve. Then he looked up at her, his eyes sincere. "If I could turn back time, I would take away what I have done to you. I am truly sorry. Vampirism is for forever. But . . ." his eyes narrowed in thought. "Really it does not have to be so bad."

Darcy frowned when she saw a light go on in his eyes

He nodded, "You can still make friends. And not just with humans, we have already agreed it is too dangerous for you to be around humans. But with people like us, people with powers."

"What are you talking about?" Darcy asked.

He sat forward excitedly, a grin now on his lips. "Darcy," he said, "how would you feel about joining the Cirque Du Freak?"

Darcy wasn't sure at first, but the more Mr. Crepsley explained, the more she began to like the idea. He told her about how everyone there would know about their vampirism and would accept them as family. Kids were always there, whether they belonged to the performers or were picked up looking for work.

"It would be all up to you, Darcy," Mr. Crepsley said as they finally ate their meal. "If you are happy there, we will stay as long as you wish. If you are not happy, we can leave."

"They won't mind me butting in?" She asked.

"You will be set to work, like everyone else. They might have you do chores like selling souvenirs, cleaning animal cages, nothing difficult; work always gets done quicker when everyone pitches in. But I am a performer, so I do not have to work as much. Mr. Tall puts me and Madam Octa to stage whenever I decide to stick around with the Cirque." He smiled up at her. "It could be like home if you let it."

She returned a small hopeful smile, nodding. "Thank you, I would like that."

"Then it is settled," he said, setting his empty bowl aside. "We go to the Cirque Du Freak."

The sun began to rise over the horizon, and Darcy just finished cleaning their dinner dishes. Mr. Crepsley was getting ready to hunker down when he asked if she would like to sleep next to him as usual. He didn't have to worry about getting burned by the sun thanks to the protection of the church, but the abandoned building was drafty and Darcy wasn't looking forward to sleeping in the cold. After he asked, she thought about the remorsefulness on his face when he apologized for what he had done to her. A thought popped in her mind that it wouldn't be too horrible to sleep next to him.

She nodded. As she went over to him and moved under his coat, she thought she caught a faint smile on his lips. They began the morning on their sides, facing each other. She didn't look up into his face, because she knew his eyes would be on her. His breath was hot on her face, so close she could feel the moisture dampen her pores. She swallowed, trying to sleep. But every time she closed her eyes she imagined him bringing a hand up and stroking her face while she slept.

She shivered and moved onto her other side, her back to him.

* * *

Darcy woke up early that evening. Mr. Crepsley's hand was resting on her arm, and she gently moved it aside and crawled out from under the coat. She packed their belongings so that when the vampire woke, they could set out for the Cirque as soon as possible. She was bounding with excitement. The prospect of making a new friend her age set her in a good mood, and she made an especially nice breakfast for Mr. Crepsley when he woke.

"I could get used to this," he said when Darcy handed him a steaming fish topped with herbs. She wasn't sure how to respond to his comment. She was glad he got along, it just wasn't exactly how she felt.

Darcy ate after she rose from sleep, and while Mr. Crepsley finished his meal, she wandered about the church. The wood of the pews were molted with old age. The only thing she noticed that wasn't in ruins was the large crucifix that hung above the alter. She stood below, looking up at it. She knew by now vampires weren't repelled by crucifixes or holy water, and in spite of it, she reached out and caressed the cross with the tip of her fingers. Right then a question popped into her mind.

Without turning around she asked Mr. Crepsley, "Do you believe in God?"

There was a brief moment of silence as he swallowed his food. "I believe in the Vampire Gods, yes."

She looked back at him questioningly.

He nodded, "Yes, vampire's have Gods, just like everyone else."

"And heaven?"

"Paradise," he corrected. "If vampire's lead good lives they move on to Paradise, a perfect land beyond the stars and galaxies. A place I very much hope to be when I die."

Darcy snorted. "And how exactly can a vampire lead a good life?"

She meant it to be a joke, but Mr. Crepsley replied, unfazed, "Do not harm the innocent. Do not kill when you drink, mostly, unless asked to-,"

"Asked to?" Darcy exclaimed. "Why in the world would someone ask a vampire to kill them?"

Mr. Crepsley set his dish aside, Darcy moved to take it, but he held a hand up and said, "Everyone has a soul, Darcy, their essence resides within their blood. If we drink a little from them, nothing happens, but drink a lot and you absorb their thoughts and memories. When a person dies, their soul leaves this world. But if a loved one wants a part of their soul to remain here, a vampire can drink all of their blood, and in that way have a piece of their soul within them."

Darcy thought silently. "It sounds a little morbid," she mumbled.

"That is only because you still repel the thought of drinking human blood." He growled. He shook his head, "It is not morbid in the slightest. In fact, it is a very good thing indeed."

Darcy grunted and took his dish to clean and pack away. "I suppose I don't need to worry about it, since I won't be making any human friends anytime soon, anyway."

"Your optimism is moving," Mr. Crepsley mused. He stood up and said, "Cheer up, my dear. We will be at the Cirque Du Freak soon enough. There frowns are never allowed."

She smirked, "You're right." She stacked the dishes and headed outside. "I'll be right back." She went down the stream nearby and used the water to clean off the leftover food. When she returned, Mr. Crepsley was kneeling before the alter; for a moment she thought he was praying.

"What're you doing?" She asked. He didn't reply. She stepped up behind him, looking at him over his shoulder. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Mr. Crepsley," Darcy whispered.

His took a deep breath and on the exhale, he opened his eyes. "Let us be off," he said standing up off his knees.

"What was that?" She asked.

Mr. Crepsley handed her their packs. "I was searching for the location of the Cirque Du Freak. More correctly, the location of Mr. Tall."

"What do you mean, like," she hesitated, "like telepathy? You're telepathic or something?"

"It is a power for full vampires," he said. "But some humans are gifted with it as well."

"What?" Darcy asked in horror, the blood draining from her face. "You can read minds?" Could he read her mind? No, he couldn't; if he could, she would be dead by now for the thoughts and ideas she had of him.

Mr. Crepsley laughed at the worry on her face. "Do not worry, I can not read minds. I can locate Mr. Tall merely by searching for his aura, so to speak."

Darcy let out a breath. No mind reading, that was a relief. All of her fantasies of murdering Mr. Crepsley in his sleep were still a secret. She always felt guilty for thinking them, but they were uncontrollable, especially after she and Mr. Crepsley had a disagreement.

Darcy threw their packs over her shoulders and Mr. Crepsley boosted her up onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, none too tightly, and he grasped her thighs firmly on both sides of his waist. They left the church at an immeasurable speed as Mr. Crepsley flitted them off to the Cirque Du Freak.


	21. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Four

Darcy and Mr. Crepsley watched as their world blurred by. Though she felt as though they weren't moving at all, Darcy knew they were traveling at an exceptional rate. The breeze playfully tumbled her hair into her face, and she tucked the dark strands behind her ear now and again, then replace her arms snugly around Mr. Crepsley's neck. The trip was uneventful; she soon grew bored of watching the same blur of earthly colors fly by, and she eventually burrowed her face into the crook of Mr. Crepsley's neck and shoulder. There she would let herself relax and nap the time away. The vampire's panting woke her up, and she looked and saw Mr. Crepsley's forehead was drenched in sweat as he struggled to keep his pace. Darcy pinched the edge of her sleeve and tugged it over her hand, then wiped his forehead with the back.

"Left. Pocket," he panted.

Darcy unhooked her left arm and wound it around his body to fish through his left coat pocket. She pulled out a full bottle of crimson liquid which sloshed against the sides as she brought it back around. She undid the cap and put it to Mr. Crepsley's ready lips. He closed his eyes in satisfaction as he gulped down the blood, his Adam's apple bobbing. When quenched, he unclamped his lips with a deep sigh and nodded his head to Darcy in thanks. She redid the cap and slipped it into his pocket.

After ten more minutes of their long journey, Mr. Crepsley finally slowed to a jog, a walk, then he stopped altogether. He unclasped his hands from Darcy's thighs and she jumped off his back. He doubled over to catch his breath, hands grasping his knees. Darcy squeezed his shoulder and bent over to look into his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

He waved her away. "I am perfectly fine. Just winded is all. Just . . . give me a minute."

Darcy hid her grin from the usually composed vampire; she had never before seen him pushed to his capacity. His vampire abilities made his strength seem unfathomable. To be honest, it was a breath of fresh air to know even the strongest creatures of the night had limits.

Darcy stretched the muscles in her arms and lower back as she observed their surroundings. They were in the middle of the countryside with acres of farmland stretching towards the horizon.

"We still have a long way to go, don't we?" Darcy inquired. "I mean, the Cirque Du Freak couldn't possibly be _here_, could it?"

"About ten miles ahead," he said, swallowing to wet his dry throat. He straightened his back, placing hands on hips. His face was flushed a deep red and glistened in the moonlight with perspiration.

"Only ten miles?" Darcy raised an eyebrow at him. "But you could have easily done that in minutes." She thought a moment, then batted her eyelashes at him innocently. "You didn't want everyone to see you all red and sweaty, did you?"

"Ridiculous!" Mr. Crepsley barked.

"Uh-huh," Darcy said, rolling her eyes. She smiled smugly at him and he narrowed his eyes; she sauntered over and began to jog in circles around him. She wanted to get to the Cirque soon; she was looking forward to making the place her new home.

"I bet you can't catch me," she taunted.

He barked a laugh when he saw what she was trying to do. "Vampires do not horseplay like children."

"I don't believe that," Darcy said. When she jogged to the front of him, she jumped in and pinched his stomach. She knew Mr. Crepsley would be waiting for that opportune moment. When he snatched a hand out to wrap around her, she pounced away and his reach failed by a whole foot! Darcy burst out laughing, knowing her ploy was working. Mr. Crepsley was pursing his lips, trying to hide his grin. He was too used to catching his prey, Darcy knew. She jogged a couple yards away and looked at him mischievously.

"Come and catch me," she said, then after a pause, "old man."

His eyes grew dangerous then, like a beast raising their hackles. "_Old man_," he repeated as though it gave a bitter taste in his mouth.

And he sprinted after her.

Darcy gasped in surprise, but she was quick to spin on her heel, and she ran. He was quick, _really_ quick, perhaps this was a stupid idea. But Darcy had been resting all day; her muscles ached for action, and she kept him at a distance longer than she expected. Their feet pounded the dirt road and Mr. Crepsley ate her dust for awhile. Darcy laughed, feeling elated at finally bettering the stubborn vampire at something. She glanced over her shoulder to see how far ahead she was.

That was a mistake.

He was right on her heels, and gaining. There was a terrible determination in his eyes, a victorious smile pulling at the corner of his pale lips.

Darcy yelped. She tripped over a loose rock, her legs tumbling together into knots. That was all Mr. Crepsley needed. First she felt his fingertips pressing into her sides, snaking around her body, then his arms wound around her waist, lifting her up from the ground. The breath was sucked from her lungs, partly from the strength of his forcefulness, but also from surprise.

Laughter poured from her lips, like cheerful music drifting over the fields of acreage. Mr. Crepsley came to a stop, gasping for breath. Darcy could feel his lungs expanding as air whooshed in, and his heart pounded against her ear as he clung her to his chest. He held her for a moment, as though the warmth from her laughter froze his joints solid. Then, slowly, he released her, his motions hesitant, almost reluctant.

When her feet were on the ground once again, Darcy slipped her hand into his. "Come on," she said impatiently, tugging him along. "Keep it up."

With a small tired smile, Mr. Crepsley let her pull him, and soon they were jogging side by side at a steady pace.

Darcy was in the best mood she had ever been in in weeks. She inhaled the fresh air of the early morning; she even enjoyed the compatible silence that rested between she and the vampire master as they trotted down the road. They were soon out of the countryside and upon an area that was more forested. A mile or so away from the Cirque, Darcy and Mr. Crepsley spotted a good sized amount of campers along the road in the forest. They were all clad in hippy-like garb; their hair hang long and numerous jewelry glinted in the light of their lamps. It looked like the campers were just waking up in the early morning, and some waved friendlily at Darcy and Mr. Crepsley. Darcy noticed banners and flags throughout the camp, but she didn't have a chance to read them before they were past. After they rounded two more bends, they came upon the Cirque Du Freak, which resided in a clearing along a river. Vans and tents littered the area and Darcy would not have known where to start, but Mr. Crepsley strode through the camp with a confident ease. To avoid looking foolish, she fell back and let him lead the way. Near where Darcy guessed was the center of camp, Mr. Crepsley walked up to a long silver van, Darcy standing close at his elbow.

He knocked and immediately the door opened as though the owner was waiting just behind the door, waiting for them. Darcy was first met with a gold belt buckle, but she craned her head back, gaping, until her chin was nearly vertical to the ground. There she saw the black voids of Mr. Tall's eyes staring back at her.

Darcy gulped.

"Crepsley," Mr. Tall said. He hardly moved his lips, but his voice was as clear as though he were speaking in her ear. "I knew I sensed you searching for me." His eyes moved over Darcy, "And I see you brought the girl. Come in, come in." He turned around to go back into the van, but he stopped suddenly and added to Mr. Crepsley, "Enter at your own free will."

Mr. Crepsley burst out laughing and stepped into the silver van, followed by Darcy. Mr. Tall's quarters were vacant except for a small couch, a hide-away bed, and shelves of Cirque Du Freak souvenirs. Mr. Crepsley sunk down into the couch and Darcy squeezed in beside him. Her attention snapped to the Cirque owner, who sat on the hide-away bed, when he spoke.

"You were not gone as long as I expected, Larten." His voice was clam, but Darcy could feel the power like electricity charging the air.

"No, Hibernius," Mr. Crepsley replied. He looked over at Darcy next to him. She blinked back, watching his gaze. "Darcy was unhappy with life on the road. I think she would like it here with people like herself. . . So she isn't so lonely."

Darcy blushed, looking away.

"I see," Mr. Tall said as he studied Mr. Crepsley while the vampire looked at Darcy. "Well, my friend, you and your assistant are more than welcome to stay with the Cirque, however long you wish as always." Mr. Tall bowed his head graciously and when he brought his head back up, Darcy almost thought it was going to graciously hit the roof of the van. Even while he sat, he towered over them.

"We are low on performers at the moment," Mr. Tall continued, "As it is our slower time of year. We have a couple days before our next performance, so you have time to rest from your journey and brush up on your act with Madam Octa."

"What can I do?" Darcy asked excitedly.

Mr. Tall studied her. "I will find chores to assign to you. You are a comely young woman, we will see how you do selling souvenirs."

Darcy beamed. "Is the performance going to be like how I saw it? A Cirque Night club? That was so much fun."

"No," Mr. Tall explained, "The Cirque usually keep the night club event for the towns and cities. Otherwise, we stay traditionalized."

Darcy frowned, "Where else would you have performances?"

"Here."

"_Here?_"

"Here," Mr. Tall confirmed.

"But we're in the middle of no where! How?"

"People always find their way here." Mr. Tall's black eyes glimmered. "The Cirque Du Freak always brings a big crowd."

Darcy pondered this while Mr. Crepsley asked, "Have you any trouble with those campers two miles back?"

"The NOP?" Mr. Tall laughed. "Hardly, they are too busy defending rocks and trees to trouble us."

"NOP?" Darcy questioned. "Nature's Opposing Protectors, ecowarriors," Mr. Tall explained. "They travel around to stop new roads and bridges from being built in attempt to save the forest and their animals."

"They don't sound so bad," Darcy said, shrugging at the men. "They're trying to protect the land. That's good, right?"

"The footmen of NOP are harmless and their cause is worthy, but," Mr. Tall tilted his head, "it is also futile. City men with heavy wallets always find a way to crush their hopes of victory."

Darcy nodded sadly in understanding. She tried to push it out of her head her own father could be considered one of the those "city men" destroying the NOP's cause.

"Morning is on its way," Mr. Crepsley said. He looked at Mr. Tall expectantly. "Perhaps you have taken care of my coffin in my absence."

"Safe and polished, as usual."

The vampire rubbed his hands together in glee. "Oh, how I have missed it. Sleeping in my coffin is like coming home again."

"I suppose you would like one made for the girl."

Darcy shook her head vigorously. "Nope. No way. There's no way you're getting me into one of those again." She thought about the last time she was in a coffin, going deeper and deeper into the earth. The memory of her being buried six feet beneath the living and the breathing made her shiver. She shook her head one last time.

Mr. Crepsley smiled knowingly at his assistant. "Put Darcy with one of the performers." He said, "Preferably someone who is patient enough to handle her stubbornness."

Darcy glared at him and his smile widened.

Mr. Tall thought a moment, his black eyes narrowing. "How about Truska?"

Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Truska would do just fine, I think, yes."

"Truska?" Darcy wondered.

"Bearded Lady," Mr. Crepsley said.

"Ah," Darcy said slowly, unsure how to respond.

Mr. Tall joined them outside the silver van. He pointed out Truska's tent to Darcy. "Just ahead, dear, yes, that's right. Just go right ahead in. Tell her I sent you and she will understand. Good girl." When Darcy was out of earshot, Mr. Tall turned to Mr. Crepsley at his side. "Could I speak to you, if you please?"

"Of course, but briefly. The sun is on its way up, and I must find my coffin."

Mr. Tall waved him back inside his silver van. They resumed their usual positions as before, only now Mr. Crepsley had more room to sit on the small couch. Mr. Tall brought the tips of his long fingers together, and he scrutinized Mr. Crepsley over his blackened fingernails as he thought.

Finally he said, "You are taken with the girl."

It wasn't a question, but Mr. Crepsley instinctually asked, "What?"

"Forgive me," Mr. Tall said quickly. "I merely observed the way you looked at the girl. Your heart rate jumped abnormally high when your attention was upon her."

Mr. Crepsley didn't reply right away. He adverted Mr. Tall's gaze, then slowly stood up off the couch. He went over to a shelf where he looked over an assortment of Cirque Du Freak souvenirs. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Only when he looked back at Mr. Tall did he speak.

"You do not miss a thing, do you, Hibernius?" He said with a small smile. He ran his razor sharp fingernails over the hairy legs of the toy Madam Octa. His eyes were narrow in thought as he let his mind wander. His smile faded, replaced with a cold, guarded look. "But she greatly despises me. I have seen the hate in her eyes; I am aware of her desire for revenge on me. I am always aware, but . . ."

"But?" Mr. Tall insisted.

"I wish, someday, hopefully, I can change that."

"You think she will forget her desire to kill you."

"I tore her from her home, her family. Perhaps if I made sure she was no longer lonely, . . ."

Mr. Tall shifted in his seat on the hide-away bed. "What I think, Larten, is that it is _you_ who is lonely, which is understandable with all the years you have spent alone after your time with Arra Sails."

Mr. Crepsley glared at his friend. "You think the only reason I blooded her, tore her from her comfortable life, and made her my assistant was because I was _lonely?"_

Mr. Tall shrugged his pointy shoulders. "Am I wrong?"

Mr. Crepsley crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "I do not know," he muttered.

Silence settled between the two men until Mr. Tall asked the question that brought everything back to the crux of the conversation.

"Do you love her?"

Mr. Crepsley sputtered, "She is a child!"

"Nearly fifteen," Mr. Tall corrected. "She will not be a child for long. As I understand, she will age faster than you, what with her half-vampire blood compared to your full."

"Well, I," Mr. Crepsley hesitated a moment, "I had not considered that before."

"Food for thought?"

"A feast."

"Good, that will give you something to feed on while you stay at the Cirque. But now," he stood up from the hide-away bed, "it is time for you to rest, and for me to wake the Cirque. Off you go, Larten."


	22. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Five

Darcy weaved in between the elaborate tents and vans and found the one that belonged to Truska. She brought an ear to the tent flap, but there was only silence. _Maybe she's still sleeping_, Darcy thought. It was still pretty early. She shrugged her shoulders and slipped inside.

Truska's tent was more decorated than Mr. Tall's; warm paintings and mirrors took up the fabric walls. Besides the huge four poster bed, there were beautiful wardrobes and dressing tables, and at one sat Truska. The woman had her back to Darcy, sitting on the little stool before the lighted dresser while she brushed her thick dark hair. Truska's brown eyes saw Darcy behind her in the mirror. Her face broke out into a smile of pleasant surprise. She set the brush down on the dresser and twirled around to meet Darcy.

"Mr. Tall sent me," Darcy told her. "He said I could stay with you, if that's alright, of course."

Truska nodded, her golden hoop earrings jingling. She wore a long beautiful purple dress made of velvet and had matching purple and gold bangles on each wrist. She held her arms open and embraced Darcy. The beautiful woman spoke something what Darcy guessed was a welcome, but it didn't sound like a word of English. Truska pulled away and spoke again, the noises coming out of her mouth sounding seal-like with chirps and barks.

Darcy smiled sadly and shook her head to let Truska know she didn't understand.

Truska stopped and laughed delicately, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. She took Darcy's hands and held them away from her body to get a better look. She pursed her lips. Pinching the hem of Darcy's old, weathered funeral dress, she clucked her tongue in distaste. Darcy giggled when Truska made a sound of exasperation when she tried to run her fingers through Darcy's hair, only to find it covered in rats tails. Obviously Mr. Crepsley didn't carry a brush on him, and Darcy was too shy to ask him to buy her one, so she had lived with just using her fingers; something she didn't do often on account of her razor sharp fingernails.

Truska directed Darcy to stand in the center of the tent. The woman scoured her wardrobes and chests, talking to herself in her strange language. She froze once to stroke her ungrown beard in thought, then she clicked her fingers and dove into the back of her wardrobe. She pulled out a black dress and held it up to Darcy's body to compare. The straps were thick, but bared the shoulders, and the torso was tight fitting, but A-lined at the hips. There was no decoration except for black roses embroidered on the hemline, which stopped just above Darcy's knees. The fabric was soft to the touch, but strong.

"Oh, Truska," Darcy said in awe. "It's beautiful, really."

Truska beamed happily, and she handed Darcy black flats to take place of her worn funeral shoes. To protect her arms from cold days, she gave Darcy a long-sleeved black shirt to be worn under the dress. She also gave her a pair of undergarments, but with just one look, Darcy knew the bra was going to be too big.

After thanking her again, Darcy was left alone in the tent to change. She had guessed right; there was room to spare in the bra as well as the bust of the dress, though wearing the shirt underneath helped some. With her old clothes set aside, Darcy stepped in front of the mirror. Immediately a smile broke out on her lips. She loved the way the dress gave her an exotic kind of look, like she was a gypsy! She bent her knees and moved her hips side to side so the A-line of the dress swayed. To view her whole ensemble, she wore the black long sleeved shirt underneath. The neck was wide enough that she could pull it outward to bare her shoulders. Darcy laughed; she was liking her new womanly appearance. Her half-vampire blood slowed her aging some, but she could still detect a change in her body, though subtle.

Darcy slipped on the flats and left the tent. She looked left and right and found Truska tending to a fire nearby. A morning breeze blew into her face, blowing back her hair and she smelled sausage. Her tummy grumbled. She was starving! Around the fire were a couple others; the sight of one of them made her freeze.

He was a boy, about her age, and his entire body was _green! _As she approached, she noticed the texture of his skin was shiny, kind of slimy; he had scales, like a reptile. Darcy was amazed. When she joined the group, she must have been staring because the scaly boy grinned at her and waved friendlily. His teeth were sharp and pointy.

Feeling suddenly shy, she gave him a sloppy smile and waved back.

"Yep," he said to the others around the fire. "She's definitely new." The others laughed, and Truska looked up from the pan of sausages and spoke to Darcy in her foreign language.

Before Darcy could say anything the snake boy said, "She asked if your clothes fit well."

"You can understand her?"

He grinned with pride and nodded.

"Wow," Darcy looked down at her dress, ironing it out with her hands. "It fits wonderfully, except, well, the front is a little too big."

Truska laughed and spoke.

Snake Boy drew the corners of his mouth together in attempt to hide his grin. The color in his cheeks changed to a deeper shade of green, and Darcy realized he was blushing.

"She says you'll grow into it."

"Ah," Darcy said feeling her own cheeks go warm.

He waved her over, "Come on, have some breakfast."

Usually this was when Darcy went to sleep, but the juicy smell of the sausages was irresistible. "Thanks," she said, and she plopped herself down next to the snake boy.

"I'm Evra Von," Evra said, holding a green hand out to her. "Snake boy."

She shook it and as expected it was slimy and cool, like the scales of a snake. "Darcy Shane," she replied, "half-vampire."

A gentleman next to her whooped at her reply, "We all know who you are."

She frowned at him. "Why? Because of what I am?"

"What? Half-vampire? Nah, that's just part of it," he said. Truska handed them a plate of sausages. "The big thing is you're a _young_ vampire. Rarely do you hear of kiddy vampires living it up with the Generals and the Council." He shoveled a forkful of his breakfast into his mouth, and he asked after he swallowed, "So? Have you been inspected by the Vampire Generals yet?"

"Vampire Generals?" She racked her brain as to where she heard of them before. Mr. Crepsley mentioned them once, when he explained why there weren't many vampires her age. She snapped her fingers when she remembered. "Vampire Generals, they're like the vampire police, right?"

The man snorted, "I guess there's a nice way of putting it, kind of naïve, but yeah, they keep the vampire law in place. But what _you_ have to worry about is-,"

"Hans!" A woman from a nearby tent shouted. "Do you want Larten upset with you for telling tales? _Again?"_

Hans shrugged his shoulders guiltily. "No, dear," he mumbled and went back to eating.

Darcy wanted to ask him exactly what it was she needed to worry about, but before she said a word, a voice spoke directly behind her.

"You didn't sleep, Mistress Shane."

Darcy nearly toppled her plate of piping hot sausages in surprise. She spun around to look behind, but she already knew who it was. Who else could appear and disappear at random, scaring the crap out of anyone they wished? She looked up at Mr. Tall who wore a royal purple three piece suit, his leather shoes polished to a gleam.

She smiled sheepishly up at him. "I was tempted by the food."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "I hope you will not be too tired to work."

Darcy shook her head vigorously. "No, I can work. I can definitely work." She was too excited to explore the on goings of the Cirque Du Freak to be tired.

He nodded in approval. "Glad to hear it. Truska will be too busy practicing her performance to look after you, but I would like to assign you chores. What are you good at?"

The question came so fast she was unprepared. Darcy answered with a meek smile, "I once helped my dad file stuff."

Mr. Tall said nothing.

_Okay, that was pathetic_, Darcy thought. "And I guess I'm good at contact sports. I've never played a contact sport, but I always manage to make contact: bloody noses, broken ribs-"

Evra Von waved his hands in the air. "She can do chores with me," he suggested. "I could show her around the camp."

Mr. Tall smiled and nodded to Evra. "A good idea." He took out a notebook and wrote something down. "Darcy, you can spend your days helping Evra until we find you a permanent chore. Larten Crepsley has requested you spend your nights with him; I hope you will find time to gain rest."

"I'll manage," Darcy smiled. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," he replied, "and welcome to the Cirque." He spun around on his heel and strode away.

"Hurry up and eat," Evra said excitedly. "Let's get to my chores so I can introduce you to everyone."

"Okay," Darcy grinned. She vacuumed up the rest of her breakfast, relishing every bit of greasy fat that tingled her taste buds.

"But first," Evra said while he stacked their plates next to the wash bin, "we have to do what needs to be done first every morning: milking my performing snake."

Darcy scrunched her face, puzzled. She opened her mouth to speak, then said slowly. "Milking a snake? I didn't know snakes had udders."

Evra froze, staring at Darcy. His mouth hung open silently at first, but then he made her jump by bursting out laughing. And he didn't stop. He laughed so hard, his face went the color of evergreen. Every trace of puzzlement vanished from Darcy's face. Now she watched with bitter amusement as Evra collapsed to his knees, holding his side, wheezing into the ground.

Darcy waited until he had composed himself somewhat when she bit her lip. "Snakes . . . don't have udders. Do they?"

"No," Evra squeaked. He took several deep breaths until his complexion returned to normal. Getting to his feet, he clapped Darcy on the shoulder. "We're going to get along, Darcy. Not the brightest crayon in the Crayola box, but you'll make a great partner."

Darcy punched him lightly in the arm. "But you said 'milking,' I just assumed."

"I meant milk her fangs," Evra explained. "That way she'll be less of a danger if she bites someone."

Darcy gulped. "Has that happened often?" It wasn't that she was afraid of snakes, but she wasn't one to cuddle up to them either.

Evra heard the anxiousness in her tone. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Dozens of times; especially the pretty young girlies with low IQ's."

"You said 'milking'! It was an honest mistake! It's not like I spend my free time hanging out with snakes, like you," Darcy exclaimed throwing her hands up in the air.

Evra laughed. He wrapped his scaly arm around her shoulders and guided the rest of the way to his tent.

Evra did all the "milking," fortunately. Then he took the snake outside and both of them washed and massaged her with soft sponges. When she felt brave enough, Darcy ran her fingers down the length of the animal. It's skin was cool, and it wasn't exactly soft, but like bumpy silk. Then the snake started to wind its way up Darcy's arm, wrapping around her like she was a tree branch. Now she wasn't feeling so brave.

"Aww, she likes you," Evra cooed, but acted quickly when Darcy's complaints grew louder and more urgent. He unwound the snake and set her down in a leather bag next to his bed.

After that, Evra and Darcy had to feed the wolfman. Darcy watched with a queasy feeling as the part wolf, part man, rattled the thick iron bars of his cage. The creature was hairy all over; his hands and feet were more like paws, and his nose was elongated into a snout. This wolfman was like nothing Darcy saw at the Cirque when she went with Steve Leonard. He had been dancing around, rather jerkily, to the music at the night club. Perhaps he had been on drugs, or worse, Mr. Tall put some kind of magic spell on him. Darcy shivered.

Evra handed her a bucket of raw meat. She set the bucket down so she could use one hand to pinch her nose against the stinky smell, and the other hand to toss the meat into the wolfman's cage. The animal opened its jaws expectantly and snatched the food in the air with his jagged teeth. Darcy was relieved they didn't have to stand too close; he roared and lunged at them if they did.

The rest of their chores consisted just walking about the Cirque Du Freak camp and seeing what needed to be done. They helped prepare dinner by chopping vegetables, they walked peoples pets, they built a fenced enclosure near Mr. Tall's van, and Evra helped Darcy hunt for her food. She was really weak and the blood from the animals they found never seemed to be enough to satisfy her thirst. Darcy felt guilty in letting Evra see her feast on the animals like a beast, but he assured her she was alright; everyone was accepted in the Cirque like family, despite their bad sides.

Something Darcy noticed while they walked around camp was, although there were lots of unique looking people, there were also normal ones. Evra explained they were either friends and family of the performers or just some people picked up by Mr. Tall, looking for work. Everyone pitched in with chores, and with all the help, things always ran smoothly.

Evra introduced Darcy to everyone they passed during chores. Performers she now knew included, Rhamus Twobellies, an abnormally large man with two bellies, Hans Hands, a skillful ambidextrous, Alexander Ribs, a contortionist with the littlest waist in the world, Gertha Teeth, a woman with jaws of steel, and among amazing others. Everyone was very friendly, even though they were all aware of Darcy's vampire blood.

After chores were done, Evra took Darcy outside camp where they walked among the trees in the forest. Evra showed off his snake-like agility by scrambling up the length of a tree, then smiling down at her. Her dress limited her ability to climb; she reminded herself to ask for shorts from Truska next time she saw the bearded lady. Darcy settled with sitting in the grass at the base of the tree and resting her back against the bark.

"So how long have you been with the Cirque?" Darcy asked.

"Oh, basically my whole life," Evra replied. Darcy looked up and saw him hanging from his knees on a branch. "I've been here since I was two."

"What happened to your parents," Darcy said before she could stop herself.

"I don't know," he said. "They abandoned me after I was born; the man that found me said he pulled me from a dumpster."

"That's horrible," Darcy said, feeling guilty. "The man that found you, don't you mean Mr. Tall?"

"Nope, before that. A circus owner took me to be in his show. He stuffed me in a cage and charged people to stare and laugh at me. They always accused me of being an evil demon." He was silent a moment. "Two years later Mr. Tall found me. He took me from the circus owner and brought me to live at the Cirque."

"You must really hate normal people," Darcy said quietly, "for all the horrible things they'd done when you were younger."

"Nope," he said, his voice light. "I pity them, actually." Darcy looked up and saw that he was smiling. "None of them got to see what a cool guy I can be." They laughed together. "What about you?" He asked, "How did you end up with Master vampire Mr. Larten Crepsley?" He said the name dripping with sarcasm.

Darcy chuckled, but grew silent, unsure where to start. "I made a promise."

He laughed curtly, "You made a promise to a _vampire_? Are you an idiot?"

"No," Darcy said up to him sharply. "I did it to save my dying friend!"

"Why was he dying?"

Darcy bit the inside of her cheek. "Because I'm an idiot."

"What was the promise?"

"Mr. Crepsley would save my friend's life if I promised to be his assistant."

"For how long?"

"I don't know," Darcy shrugged her shoulders, "Forever for all I know."

"Whoa, so you're the vampire's slave for forever?"

Darcy snorted. "Sure feels that way sometimes."

"Harsh."

"He's a serious pain in the neck, stubborn as me." Darcy thought a moment. She said quietly, "But I need him."

"Hm?"

"I need him, because he's the only one who can help me with this whole half-vampire thing." She played with a blade of grass, twisting it between her fingers. "I'm sure I'd be dead by now without him." She smiled to herself. "He's like a bed of wild roses: deep within the petals are soft, but the outside thorns hurt like hell."

The forest was silent except for a soft breeze rustling the leaves and blades of tall grass. It was peaceful, almost beautiful as the sun settled over the horizon, casting a deep orange light over the tops of the trees. Then Evra had to ruin its beauty by bursting out laughing, loud and obnoxious.

"A wild bed of roses! That's hilarious!" He laughed some more. "And about Mr. Crepsley, too! Of all people!"

Darcy glared him as he hung there upside-down on a branch. "I think too much blood has gone to your head," she grumbled, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks.

"No, go on please, this is priceless," he said between chuckles.

Darcy sighed and stood up off the ground. "I'm going back to camp."

And she left him there as the bellow of his laughter followed her back.


	23. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Six

Darcy ate her dinner of steak and mashed potatoes with the rest of the Cirque Du Freak. Everyone sat around various camp fires, chatting and eating like family around a dinner table. After stomachs were full, music and laughter filled the atmosphere and surrounded Darcy like a warm blanket of protection. She joined others in a large game of charades, helped Truska pass around desert, and even danced to a few songs Hans played skillfully on his guitar.

The sun was set, and while she was dancing with an older human boy, Mr. Crepsley walked from his van towards them. He didn't see her right away because she was surrounded by a large group of onlookers. He browsed the leftover food, picking at the slabs of meat and potatoes. Looking for something to put his food on, he saw the table nearer to the crowd which contained the plates and silverware. He reached up to grab a plate. Then his eyes found Darcy, dancing in the middle of the crowd. His mouth fell open slightly as his eyes watched her dress twirl around her legs and hips as her dance partner spun her by the light of the fire. He saw the glimmer in Darcy's eyes as she laughed, her face flustered a warm pinkish hue. A smile spread on his pale lips, and he rested against the table as he watched her.

_Crack!_

The table legs gave out under the pressure and collapsed to the ground in a heap. Mr. Crepsley quickly jumped away, but he watched in horror as every plate shattered into millions of pieces at his feet. All music and talking stopped as everyone turned to stare at the mess. Darcy peered between shoulders of people in the crowd, seeing a blushing Mr. Crepsley amongst the destruction.

He was hesitant to speak. "I . . . I am sorry."

Darcy covered her mouth to stifle her giggling. The look on the vampire's face with priceless. She watched as he bent to his knees to pick up the broken plates with his hands. A few people came forward to help him, but he stopped them and said to leave him to it. Darcy knew why; vampire's skin was very thick, and the broken plates wouldn't cut him as easily it would anyone else. Seeing a purpose for herself, she pushed past the crowd and dropped to Mr. Crepsley's side to help. The group of people eventually went back to their playing and dancing.

"I feel like a fool," the vampire growled in her ear as they worked together.

"What were you doing?" Darcy asked, trying to keep the laughter from her voice.

"I was just . . . ," he glanced at her, watching the firelight catch on her eyelashes. He blinked and quickly looked away. "I was just picking up a plate for my food."

"You broke the table."

"It was an accident," Mr. Crepsley snapped. He held the palms of his hands out to her, and Darcy dropped the shards of porcelain into them. She followed him to the dumpster bin on the outskirts of camp. The noise of the Cirque had quieted some, and they were alone in the darkness behind a group of vans. After Mr. Crepsley wiped the last of the shards from his hands, Darcy stepped back and spun around, her dress flowing away from her knees.

"What do you think?" She asked.

A corner of Mr. Crepsley's lips curved upward and he replied, "I hardly recognized you." He looked away, hiding his face, "I thought I was seeing a woman."

Darcy was flattered, knowing that was exactly how she wished the dress made her look. She peered around to look into Mr. Crepsley's face.

"It's my birthday in a few days," she said.

"Yes it is," he muttered. He faced her and said, "You will be fifteen, almost a woman."

Darcy laughed, "Almost." She looked down at herself, "I know I don't look it, but I feel so much older."

Mr. Crepsley nodded. "And you will remain as such; depending on when your growth spurt arrives, you will look like a young girl for years to come." He tapped the side of his head. "But this continues to grow, to mature."

"Growth spurt?" Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow in uncertainty. She had already started her growth spurt as a human, and as she understood it, spurting wasn't a whole lot of fun: mood swings, growing pains.

To explain further, Mr. Crepsley took her hand with a small smile and guided her outside of camp. They strolled along the edge of the dark forest.

"Eventually," Mr. Crepsley began, "your years as a half-vampire will catch up with you. In some years to come, all of the growing happening in your mind will show on your body. It will be like changing from a girl to a woman overnight."

"Sounds painful," Darcy mused.

Mr. Crepsley chuckled. "Oh, yes. It can be a very painful experience."

"Did you go through it?"

"No, I was changed when I was a man, though I have grown some, of course."

"Oh, so you weren't always this grumpy old man?" Darcy asked, grinning as she stared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I am not grumpy!" Mr. Crepsley chided.

"Yes, you are," Darcy said, and then mumbled, "especially in the mornings."

"And I am not _old_."

"No, of course not. What are you? Four hundred years old?"

Mr. Crepsley narrowed his eyes down at her. "Just about," he said quietly.

They circled the perimeter of the Cirque Du Freak camp, bantering back and forth. The fires were banked, and hardly anyone was still walking about but themselves. The campsite was quiet, all for except the wolfman's snores. Mr. Crepsley told Darcy tales about the vampire existence, about their gods and legends, but she soon interrupted and asked a question which had been bothering her all day.

"When are the Vampire Generals going to be checking up on me?"

Mr. Crepsley froze in his step, and he looked down at her carefully. "Who said anything about them checking up on you?"  
"Hans," she answered, then wondered if she should have kept that a secret.

"Damn that Hans," Mr. Crepsley growled, "always sticking his ambidextrous hands where they should not be."

"Should I be worried?" Darcy asked.

The anger melted from his face and he looked down at Darcy with a small smile. He reached a hand up and caressed her cheek softly. "I would not worry about it now, my dear. If the Vampire Generals wanted you, they would have been here by now. Trust me." His eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

_I try_, Darcy thought, and she nodded.

After a couple more hours of talking and walking around the labyrinth of vans and tents, Mr. Crepsley went back to his van where he kept his coffin. He offered Darcy to sleep in his van, but she declined, saying she was happy to share with Truska. She liked being around female company for once; it reminded her of the moments she had spent with her sister, Annie.

When she arrived at the Bearded Lady's tent, she found a cot ready for her next to the bed. Truska snored lightly, buried beneath her pile of ornate sheets and furs. Darcy only had a few hours to sleep before Evra snuck into the tent and shook her awake. She was exhausted by the next morning, but she didn't mind in the least; the Cirque Du Freak had so much to offer and kept her constantly interested.

While she and Evra did their chores around camp, people approached her now and then to express their excitement for her upcoming fifteenth birthday.

"News travels fast," Darcy commented to Evra.

He laughed, "There are no secrets in the Cirque, not among its caretakers."

"But they act like it's such a big deal."

"That's because it is!" Evra exclaimed, tossing a putrid-smelling scrap of meat to the wolfman. "Birthdays are the only holidays we get to celebrate as a group. Everyone deserves to have a birthday party."

Darcy looked at him warily.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure the Cirque does something extra special for your birthday. You'll like it, I promise."

"But I'm new," she mumbled, "Everyone doesn't really know me yet."

"Aw," he waved her words away. "We know if we'll like someone when we meet them. People are warming up to you already. Although," he hesitated with a sly smile.

"What?" She asked slowly.

He tittered, "When we heard a new girl was arriving with Mr. Crepsley, well, knowing the vampire, we all thought you were gonna be some grumpy lady."

Darcy snorted, "So I was a pleasant surprise?"

"Very pleasant," he replied nodding enthusiastically.

When they were done with chores she and Evra walked a ways outside of camp. They were chatting as they walked by a thistle of bushes, but Darcy stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Evra asked.

"Who is that?" She asked, looking into the bushes. She could see the form of a small person peering between the greenery. Even though her vampire abilities were dwindling from lack of human blood, she could still see him easily, although he hid himself well.

Evra looked closer. "Oh, I see. That's just some kid that lives nearby. I've seen him around often, always spying on the Cirque."

"Has he ever made any trouble?"

"Him? No, he just watches all day."

"I wonder what he wants," Darcy said.

"Wanna find out?" Evra asked with a mischievous grin.

She smiled and said quietly, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Let's have some fun is what I'm thinking,"

"Me too," Darcy whispered. They leaned their heads close together and whispered excitedly. When they were done, they nodded in agreement and pulled apart.

"Oh, Darcy, I just remembered," Evra said loudly in feigned surprise, "I forgot to do that thing. You know that thing?"

Darcy bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Oh, you mean that _thing? _Yeah, I remember."

He waved good-bye and walked back to camp while Darcy veered off to the opposite end of camp. When in the concealment of the tents and vans, she quickly used them to sneak back into the forest. She gave the boy a wide berth and edged around until she was behind him in the bushes. As quiet as possible, she drew closer and in corner of her eyes she spotted Evra tip-toeing behind a bush next to the little boy. Evra looked around, and when he saw her he winked to give her the signal.

"Ohhhhhh," Darcy groaned suddenly, "Bewaaaaaare, _bewaaaaaare!_"

The boy gasped and spun around. "W-who is that?"

Evra chirped loudly and shook the branches in front of him violently.

"S-stop it!" The boy called out. "I'm not scared. Quit it! Whoever you are!"

Darcy moaned again, and the boy twirled around towards her to try to find the source of the noise. When the boy had his head turned, Evra inched out and unfurled his abnormally long snake tongue, and then used it to tickle the boy in the ear.

The boy screamed surprisingly high-pitched; he jumped up and high-tailed it out of there. Darcy and Evra left their hiding spots, laughing hysterically. They chased after the boy, racing to reach him first. He was a quick little guy, but their longer legs gave them an advantage and they drew closer. He was screaming for help, but his voice cut off suddenly when he tripped in a field of tall grass.

Darcy gasped, worried he had hurt himself.

"Hey, kid, are you okay?" She called out, and then asked Evra, "Do you see him?"

"No, the grass is too thick."

"Hey, kid!" Darcy shouted. "Are you alright? You don't have to worry, we won't hurt you. We were just playing around." There was no answer.

Out of nowhere a hand grasped Darcy's shoulder. She screamed and spun around, bumping Evra in the process and making them collapse to the ground. When they sat up the boy was standing there, holding his side as he laughed.

"Gotchya! You should see your faces!" He said between breaths.

Darcy and Evra exchanged glances, and then joined in the laughter as they climbed to their feet.

"Hey, that was a good one," Darcy smiled.

"Yeah," Evra said, "I didn't see that coming."

"I knew what you were planning the whole time," he boasted.

Now that he stood before them, Darcy looked him over properly. He was a short kid, but she could tell from the sparkle of intelligence in his eyes he was only a little younger than she.

"I was only pretending to be scared," he continued.

"I believed it," Darcy said. She stepped forward and held out her hand. "Darcy Shane."

His eyes lit up and his hand shot out to shake hers, "Sam," he said with a wide grin. "Sam Grest."

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

Then he shook Evra's hand. He looked over the snake boy's light-green skin with keen interest.

"How intriguing," he said in awe.

Evra raised an eyebrow at Sam, then smiled and turned to Darcy, "Hey, I like this kid."

After they shook hands, Sam looked back at the Cirque Du Freak camp, craning his neck over the bushes to get a better look and he asked, "I assume you two are employed here?" 

"We are," Evra replied, then did a little theatrical jig. "Cirque Du Freak: performances of the supernatural and the macabre. A show not for the weak or feint-hearted."

"Cirque Du Freak?" Sam said slowly, rolling the words around in his mouth as though please at how it tasted. His eyes went as big as saucers. "A freak show circus! That's fascinating!" He nodded his head to them. "And you two perform?"

"Evra does," Darcy said, "But I wouldn't mind giving it a shot." She added to Evra, "I know how to play the flute for Mr. Crepsley's spider, Madam Octa."

"Madam Octa?" Sam asked. "Playing flutes for spiders? Crepsleys?" He was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. "You have to tell me everything about this Cirque Du Freak. It sounds outstanding!"

"It is," Darcy said grinning at Sam's joy. "It's truly wonderful."

Together they went back to a field and plopped down in the tall grass. As Evra and Darcy told Sam stories of the Cirque, Sam listened intently while chomping down on some pickled onions. He loved picked onions; he carried a whole jar of them.

They sat in a circle with their knees touching.

"We have a wolfman," Evra said.

"And a bearded lady," Darcy added.

"And a man with two bellies."

"And the amazing Evra Von snake boy, of course," Darcy said, and laughed when Evra stood up and bowed like he were on stage.

"Wow," Sam awed, "You two really have it made, really living a kid's dream. What child does not aspire to live with the circus, travel the world, make friends with talented artisans, and learn their dark and deep secrets?" He swallowed a pickled onion and sat forward earnestly. "I would do anything to trade places with you."

Darcy almost laughed. If only he knew what her life has come to. If only he knew _what_ she was. She thought a moment if she would trade lives with Sam willingly, but she knew she wouldn't. She would never wish her lonely life on anyone, even for Mr. Crepsley.

Sam sat forward on his knees and Darcy could spell the onions on his breath.

"You have to get me in there!" He exclaimed. "I need to join, I just need to!" He inched forward and shook Darcy by the shoulders. "Pleeeeaaase!"

"Okay, okay," Darcy said, waving her hands at him to calm down. "But there's a lot more to the Cirque than you think, you know. You have to do chores, like cook and clean and-"

"That's okay," Sam interrupted. "I'm a really hard worker. I wouldn't mind."

Darcy understood what he meant. She didn't mind doing chores herself because she enjoyed the majesties of the Cirque anyway. She looked over at Evra and he just shrugged as if to say "You're on your own." She looked back to Sam at his pleading face.

"Okay," she said, "I'll put in a good word for you to Mr. Tall."

Sam jumped up and danced around. "Yes!" He repeated over and over. "Oh, you won't regret this, it'll be the best decision you ever made. I'll make the best freak show worker as I can be!"

"Hey, just because I said I'll put in a good word for you, doesn't mean you're actually in," Darcy said.

"Oh," Sam smiled sheepishly and plopped back down. "I knew that."

Darcy and Evra exchanged looks and laughed. Sam popped another pickled onion in his mouth.

After he was calmed down, Sam had a chance to tell the two about his life. He was an only child, living somewhere nearby with his parents. They had a bunch of animals because they always picked up strays and took care of them until they could find them another home. He was home-schooled, and _really_ smart, which Darcy already figured by his mature way of speaking. From what it sounded, Sam's parents were relaxed about rules; Sam boasted he could leave home and go anywhere all day, but as long as he ended up home at night. Darcy was jealous; her parents were very strict, and she never really knew that kind of freedom. Only Evra had an idea of how that was, since he never had parents to boss him around at the Cirque anyway.

The sun was setting and Sam decided it was time he headed home. Agreeing to see each other tomorrow, they waved good bye and Sam left, disappearing into the thick wood.

When he was gone, Darcy turned to Evra. "So what do you think of him?"

"He's a cool little guy," he replied, then scrunched his nose. "I mean, you know, he talks funny sometimes. But other than that."

"Yeah, I wonder what Mr. Tall will say when I ask him if Sam can join."

They began to walk back to camp in the dusk.

"That would be fun if he did," Evra commented. "He'd be like an accomplice; he'd help us play pranks on the performers, like slipping mice into Mr. Crepsley's coffin." Evra laughed and Darcy wondered if that had been attempted before. "Yep, it would be just the three of us."

Darcy linked arms with him. "Like the Three Musketeers."

"Yeah!"

They chatted until they heard footsteps creeping up on them from the forest. Looking behind, they saw the shadows of several forms. The group was in a single file line, and the front . . . _thing_ carried a lamp, leading the way into camp. As they approached, Darcy saw they were _very _short people, only three to four feet high. They wore purple and blue roughly stitched robes which covered their whole bodies. The hoods pulled low over their head made their faces invisible in the night. Darcy remembered seeing these little people when she first came to the Cirque; they had worked at the bar and sold the Cirque Du Freak merchandise.

Now the front little person with the lamp passed and five to ten identical ones followed. Every single one was as silent as the last. But the last person in the group was hardly similar to the rest. This man was taller than Darcy and was as wide as the little people were skinny. His large girth was held in by a three piece suit that was a sickly yellow. She could see it easily even in the shadows of the dusk. She and Evra just stood there, letting the group past with their mouths gaping open.

As the wide man strolled by, Darcy saw his small black eyes were on her. A huge grin broke out on his face and each tooth gleamed unnaturally white.

"Miss," he said, nodding his head to her.

Darcy smiled back and waved.

They watched for a moment as the strange group entered the Cirque, commanding the presence of every onlooker.

"Hm," Darcy grunted thoughtfully. "Well, he seemed nice. What do you-?" She turned to Evra, but froze when she saw his face. His light-green complexion had paled almost to a yellowish white. The whites of his eyes shone in the darkness.

"Evra?" Darcy questioned. "What's wrong?" When she laid a hand on his shoulder, she felt him trembling. "You look so scared. What is it? Do you know that man?"

His head did a spasm when he nodded. "M-m-m," he tried to speak, but his shaking stopped his words cold.

"Who?" Darcy pressed.

He moved his eyes away from where the man left and onto Darcy. "M-Mr. Tiny," he whispered. The fear in Evra's voice made the hairs on Darcy's arms stand up. She had no idea who Mr. Tiny was, but she already felt weary of the man who had grinned at her.

They ran the rest of the way into camp, and with a look around, Darcy saw many of the Cirque inhabitants expressions mirrored Evra's. People began to form huddles and talk anxiously amongst themselves. They all talked about this Mr. Tiny and fear was infused in all their voices.

Darcy and Evra joined Truska, Hans, and a couple others as they conversed.

"Where did he go?" Darcy asked.

"Where do you think?" Hans said briskly, "To Mr. Tall's van, of course."

"Hey, relax, she's new," Evra said in her defense. "She doesn't know who Desmond Tiny is."

A few people chuckled at this.

"Lucky you," Hans mused.

"Why? Who is he?" Darcy asked. She wanted to know why everyone acted as though this Mr. Tiny was the reason for the end of the world. He seemed okay.

"Well, you know what they say," Hans said, "Ignorance is bliss."

"She'll find out on her own time," someone else commented.

After a short while, as everyone waited for the reappearance of the infamous man, someone came running over from Mr. Tall's van. They looked around frantically, but when their line of vision seemed to meet up with Darcy, they sprinted over.

"Darcy Shane, right?" They asked, breathless.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied.

"Mr. Tall wants you to come to his van. He says Mr. Tiny wants to meet you!"

All eyes moved onto her, and she unexpectedly felt her stomach jump to her throat. She gulped and began to walk towards Mr. Tall's silver van. But a thought popped into her head and she jumped back and snatched Evra's hand.

"W-what? What're you doing?"

"I'm not doing this alone. You're coming with me."

Evra swore and mumbled under his breath, but he gave in and they walked together, hand clutched in trembling hand, to meet Des Tiny.


	24. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Seven

Darcy could hear Evra's teeth chattering as they stepped into Mr. Tall's silver van. She tried not to be afraid, but when she saw Mr. Tall and Mr. Crepsley inside and that their faces were creased with worry, then she began to lose her nerve. Mr. Tiny sat on Mr. Tall's bed as though he owned the place. When the large man saw Darcy he grinned again and waved her over.

"Welcome, Darcy Shane, Evra Von, welcome," he said and pointed to the floor. "Come in, take a seat. Make yourselves at home."

"I'll stand if that's alright," Darcy said, ignoring the look of warning from Mr. Crepsley.

Evra nodded, and stuck close to her side.

Mr. Tiny shrugged. "Suit yourself." He brought something out of his yellow pocket and it shone gold in the light. Darcy saw it was a small watch shaped like a heart and she could hear its little ticking like heartbeats. As she noticed this, he said, "I've heard much about you, Darcy Shane. You're a remarkable young woman, sacrificing your freedom for the life of a friend; a thing of heroes, for sure."

"I only did what was right," Darcy said, blushing. "I'm no heroine."

"Of course you are, my dear," he tilted his head at her as though speaking to a daughter. "You acted against your wishes for the better of someone else. It's so refreshing to see such selflessness when it is seldom seen these days."

Darcy nodded. She wondered why everyone was so afraid of this nice man.

"Larten tells me you aren't drinking human blood," Mr. Tiny said. "I agree with you, it is a nasty beverage. Apart from the blood of children, though. Yummy, my absolute favorite."

She thought a moment, her eyebrows furrowing together. "But I thought you couldn't drink from children. They're too small. You'd just kill them."

His white-toothed grin widened as though she had just told a hilarious joke.

"_So?_" he asked.

Darcy's smile fell. At first she thought he was joking. Of course she thought he was only joking, no sane person on Earth would say that while trying to be funny. She looked at his teeth; huge, wide, as though they wanted nothing better than to gobble her up, like the Big Bad Wolf. The Big Bad Wolf ate children, too. Darcy shivered and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

How in the world could she ever think of him as _nice?_

He was evil. Just pure evil. She could imagine him grinning as he wrapped his hands around her neck, strangling her only for the enjoyment of hearing her scream.

She flinched when he spoke again.

"You seem very familiar to me. Have we met before, Darcy Shane?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'd . . . I think I'd remember that."

"Hm," he tilted his head and scrutinized her for a silent moment. She heard the ticking of the golden heart pocket watch grasped in his hand. Then he barked, making her jump, "Anyways, back to business. As you saw, I have new recruits for my cause, and since they're new, they're a bit unsure of the ropes. Normally I'd be here to teach them, but I have . . . other business to attend to. They are smart little darlings, so they will just have to learn without me." He put on a gloomy face, but Darcy instantly knew it was fake. "So while they are learning, I need them taken care of. I have permission from your guardians that you two can be the ones responsible for looking after them. You don't have to do much, just feed them. They love meat, as Evra Von knows, so you'll have that handled."

He smiled. Darcy would have thought it friendly only a minute ago, but now she saw his smile was only a promise of pain if they refused.

"So what do you say? I need strong young men and women, like you two. I would feel so much better being away from my dears if I knew they were well taken care of."

Silence fell on the van except for the ticking. Darcy glanced at Mr. Crepsley. He looked at her with worry, but he didn't say anything. She looked at Evra and he nodded, so she followed his lead and accepted reluctantly.

"Wonderful!" Mr. Tiny bellowed. "I'm sure you both will do just fine, indeed. If you have any problems with my Little People just say so to Hibernius and he will help." He turned his face away, nose in the air, and waved them away to let them know they were excused.

Evra quickly spun around to fly out of the van and Darcy followed.

Before she exited, Mr. Tiny sang to them, "Goodnight, dearies, tomorrow is going to be an early morning. My Little People get mighty hungry. If they go too long without food, you never know what they might _sink their teeth into_."

Darcy's blood ran cold at his voice and goose bumps rose on her arms and legs. She looked back and saw Mr. Crepsley slip out of the van behind her. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her off to the side.

After a quick glance over his shoulder, he said gravely, "I am sorry I never told you about Desmond Tiny before. But, please, next time he speaks to you, do not say anything that will upset him. If you do upset him," he brought a hand up and very softly ran a cold finger along her cheek bone, "he will hurt you."

"Who _is_ he?" Darcy said firmly, feeling the heaviness of his words.

He chuckled sadly, "I wish I could give you a straight answer, but Mr. Tiny is a man of mystery." He looked over his shoulder when the very man's voice called his name from the silver van. He looked at her briefly, then without a word released her shoulders and left.

Evra grabbed her hand and they ran back to his tent. The night was still young , so they sat up and chatted anxiously about the night's events.

"Who is Tiny?" She asked, speaking in whispers for some reason she couldn't explain. She almost felt like Mr. Tiny could be anywhere, hiding behind the wardrobe, or on the other side of the tent flap, listening to her.

"He's the leader of the Little People," Evra replied.

"Those weird silent guys that wear the robes?"

"Yeah, he calls them Little People. He's been bringing them to the Cirque for as long as I've been here. No one knows where they come from. Sometimes they turn up by themselves, and other times Mr. Tiny arrives with them, but I haven't seen him in two years. I liked it that way; he creeps me out. It's like whenever he looks at me he looks like he wants to eat me."

"I felt that way, too."

"And so do most of the other's at the Cirque. He scares everyone."

Darcy thought a moment. "He said the Little People eat meat," she remembered. "So they're like us, right? Or are they . . . different?"

He leaned forward. "I don't know, but I have seen one of their faces before, and I can tell you: they look nothing like us."

"What? What do they look like?"

"Well," he began, "Once I helped some Little People move a heavy machine and one of them slipped and fell. The machine crushed him, but he didn't make a sound, not a yell or a grunt. His hood fell back . . . and it was horrible. His face was ridged with scars and stitches and everything was squished together. He had weird bowl-like eyes and something covering his mouth like a mask." Evra shivered. "They look dead, Darcy. Their skin is grey and old-looking. They're inhuman."

"Have you talked to one? Maybe they're not as bad as you think."

"I've tried, everyone has tried talking to them, but they don't speak. I don't know why. They're really helpful around the Cirque, but they keep to their siblings – that's what I call them, but I've sure they're not – and don't talk at all. They're like zombies."

Darcy was burning inside with curiosity. Although Mr. Tiny scared her, she was intrigued by the mystery surrounding him. "You said you haven't seen Mr. Tiny for two years?"

He nodded.

"Well, why would he suddenly turn up now?" When Evra shrugged, Darcy suggested, "Do you think it had to do with Mr. Crepsley and myself?"

"Maybe," he said, then added unhelpfully, "and maybe not. You never know with Mr. Tiny. It could have been coincidence. Or fate." He paused gravely. "Fate would make sense. Do you know his first name?"

"Desmond, right?" She asked.

"Yeah, but he tells people to call him Des."

"Okay?" She said slowly.

"So what do you get when you put his first and last name together?"

"This is starting to sound like a bad joke."

"Just figure it out!"

"Okay, okay," she said, so she did. Mr. Des Tiny, Mr. Des-Tiny. Mr. . . .

_Destiny_.

"Oh. My. God."

"I told you," Evra said impatiently.

Darcy shivered, and she suddenly felt cold, like just thinking about Mr. Tiny made the temperature drop.

"That's freaky."

"I'm telling you," Evra whispered hurriedly. "Everything about that man is unnatural."

"And now we have to work for him."

"He'll be gone by tomorrow morning," Evra assured her, "Let's just hope Mr. Desmond Tiny doesn't come back any time soon."

* * *

In the days that followed at the Cirque, Darcy and Evra woke early in the morning, before the sun peeked over the tips of the trees, and went hunting for the Little People. Thankfully they didn't eat a whole lot; a dog, for example, could feed about four of them a day. Darcy was disgusted to find out the Little People could eat anything, _including humans_. The two of them carried a couple large potato sacks and wandered around, looking for stray animals to kill or pick up ones already dead to save time.

Darcy suggested they split up after awhile and Evra agreed, heading off in a different direction. What she wanted was to find an animal to feed on. She was dying of thirst, but she didn't want Evra to see her savagely feed. If he saw how she tore hungrily away at an animal, she was afraid he would treat her differently, like she was a monster. Since he was her only friend at the moment, she didn't want to take any risks.

What frightened her was she knew she would have to drink from a human eventually. It was either that, or die. What would Mr. Crepsley do if she did die? Would he be sad? Or would he just move on and find a different assistant? The nights they walked around the Cirque grounds side-by-side she would look at him out of the corner of her eyes. At first she thought his shock of bright orange hair was weird, but she had grown accustomed to it over time; it had become a part of who he was, including the scar that ran along the side of his face. His strange appearance no longer frightened her. Sometimes she caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking, and she would find herself wondering what he thought of her.

The day before her fifteenth birthday, after Darcy and Evra were finished hunting for the Little People, they were told to take the day off and spend their time off grounds. Happy to have a break, they escaped into the forest and met Sam Grest.

"So have you put in a good word for me to join the Cirque?" He asked as they strolled between the trees.

Darcy's shoulders sagged apologetically, "No, I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting to ask Mr. Tall. Evra and I have been so busy taking care of the Little People. I'll remember next time I see Mr. Tall, I promise."

"What do your parents think about you joining, anyway?" Evra asked.

"I may have," Sam said slowly, "failed to mention it to them. But I want to take things slow, perhaps tell them right before I go, or maybe even after I'm already gone."

"So you're pretty serious about joining, aren't you?" Darcy asked.

"Yup," he replied enthusiastically. "I'll be the best there is when it comes to freak shows. I'll read all the books and watch all the educational TV shows there is. I'll know so much this Mr. Tall boss would be crazy to turn me down."

The teenagers smiled to themselves, knowing Sam was only talking about dreams that would most likely not come true. But instead of telling him off, they linked arms with him and walked beside each other through the forest.

The morning of her birthday, Darcy was allowed to sleep in and Truska had a steaming plate of eggs, sausages, and chocolate chip pancakes ready for her when she woke. Many people wished her Happy Birthday as she walked about the Cirque Du Freak and she accepted them with thanks. When she was at home, she never had this kind of special treatment; at home, Mom would bake a cake, chocolate of course, and Darcy would open two or three presents that were usually gift cards. After that they would watch a movie, or maybe go to the movie theater, but nothing real big. Here at the Cirque, people she hardly knew gave her presents throughout the day. What she liked most was the presents weren't store bought; they were hand made, and she was happy to know people took time out of their busy days to make something for her. She had received jewelry, clothes, books, all the things she now cherished because she had so little.

The sun set and Darcy returned to the Cirque after hanging out with Sam. At this time, everyone usually gathered for dinner, but the Cirque was strangely vacant. Truska suddenly appeared at her side and took her hand excitedly. The Bearded Lady guided Darcy back to her tent and motioned for her to stand in the middle like she did when Darcy first arrived. The woman went to her wardrobe and brought out a rectangular box tied with a black bow. Darcy accepted it graciously, and she unwrapped the package.

She gasped when she held up what was inside, letting the tissue paper and the box fall to the floor. In her hands she held an evening dress the color of crimson. Bringing the fabric to her cheek, she felt it was smooth as silk.

"Truska, it's beautiful!" She said, embracing her. "Thank you so much!"

Truska waved away her words with a smile and pushed the dress towards Darcy to stress that she should put it on. When she left, Darcy quickly took off her black gypsy dress and slipped into her gown. She sighed with content at how smooth the fabric felt against her skin. The hem stopped at her knees and hugged her hips, emphasizing her _almost_ womanly shape. The thick straps hung off, baring her shoulders and Darcy felt wildly rebellious when wearing it. Her mom or dad wouldn't dare let her walk out of the house if they saw her baring that much skin. When she was done changing, Truska came back in and sat her down at the vanity mirror. She brushed Darcy's long brown hair so it hung freely down her back. Then she sprayed Darcy with perfume, something she had little experience with, and it smelled amazing. Lastly, Truska gave Darcy matching red heels, and although she nearly tripped a couple times, Darcy got the hang of wearing them long enough to admire them in the mirror.

Truska was wearing her own elegant midnight blue dress, and when she was ready, she linked arms with Darcy and they walked out of the tent.

"Where are we going?" Darcy asked when she noticed they weren't going to their usual dining place. She thought Truska could understand some English, but she decided not to answer the birthday girl anyway. Then, off in the distance, she heard music playing. It was fast and playful, perfect for dancing. As they walked closer, she realized the music was coming from a tent erected at the center of the campsite. Darcy grinned to herself, knowing what had to be coming.

As they approached the entrance, the tent flaps opened and Darcy was met with a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" and she grinned at the spectacle. Everyone at the Cirque, all performers and workers, put together a stage and dance floor, just like the first time she went to the Freak show. Red curtains draped from rafter to rafter, and round platforms were scattered around, each with their own performing freak. The music blast and performers did their tricks as she walked in.

Mr. Tall strode up to her, wearing a black shimmering three-piece suit, and nodded his head to her gracefully.

"A welcome home present to our new guests and a little birthday party for a special young lady. Enjoy."

Darcy was speechless, so she just smiled. She was soon pushed towards the dance floor, and she laughed when she saw Evra kicking it out to the groove with his own dance moves.

"I call this one," he said when she walked over, "the Serpentine." He waved his arms and legs about, weaving around her like a snake.

Darcy cheered and danced with the crowd like she didn't have a care in the world. Taking a glance around her, she saw everyone smiling and having a good time, and her heart warmed knowing it was because of her. After a couple songs, she left to go get a drink from the concession stand. She ordered a cup of red punch from the Little People and sipped it down as she watched the Cirque performers doing their acts around the dancers.

"You look beautiful, Darcy," a voice said in her ear. She looked over her shoulder and saw Mr. Crepsley standing behind her. The vampire master was wearing a crimson tailored suit and a long jacket with a high collar. His orange hair was untamed as usual and Darcy wondered it he _ever_ put a brush to it. Probably not.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she commented. "Do vampire's always wear those long jackets?"

"Not all," he said with a small smile, his scar pulling upwards, "I just know I look good in them."

Darcy rolled her eyes, but returned the smile. He did look rather handsome, as handsome as a scarred, orange-haired monster could look, anyway.

"Are you enjoying your time?" He asked.

She sighed with a grin, "I haven't had this much fun in forever."

"Good," he said as though those were the exact words he had hoped to hear. He took her cup of punch and gulped the last bit, and then he set it down and grasped one of her hands in his. He guided her between the bodies of people and found a table with a "Reserved" sign on it. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down. People began to push in from all sides of the table. As everyone started singing her Happy Birthday, Gertha Teeth and Truska carried a cake over and set it down in front of her. The cake had three tiers with white fondant; it was decorated all over with black roses and red food coloring dipped all down the sides like blood. Darcy's mouth watered. It looked delicious!

The cake quickly disappeared as it was shared among everyone and when Darcy was done vacuuming hers down, she found Rhamus Twobellies and thanked him for making her the amazing cake. For the rest of the night, people danced and sang and drank and ate and chatted and danced some more. Mr. Crepsley performed with Madam Octa, playing a song on his flute Darcy liked very much. When they traveled he would amuse them by playing on the instrument, and after a while Darcy was able to pick out which songs she liked the most. Sometimes he would let her play and she would try to recreate the beautiful music Mr. Crepsley made, but failed. Mr. Crepsley promised to teach her how to play masterfully in the future.

As the night wound down, people left one by one, or in couples, and Darcy crept off with Mr. Crepsley when the party was over.

"Fifteen years old," the vampire said in a ponderous voice. "I remember when I was fifteen. I had already left my home behind and assisted my vampire master, Seba Niles."

"You were a vampire assistant, too?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, only I was never a half-vampire, like you. When I was old enough to make the decision, I asked Master Seba to make me a full vampire."

"Just like that?" She asked. "You didn't have any family or anything?"

"Oh, I had family," Mr. Crepsley said, his voice sad, "But I did not know until after I was a full vampire my family still wanted me after I ran away from home."

"Why did you run away?" Darcy asked, touched by the vampire's mournfulness.

He sighed, "It is . . . complicated. I wish to tell you, but I do not think you are ready to hear. I do not like to keep secrets from my close companions, but one day I will share them with you."

"When?" She asked intrigued by the sudden mystery.

He thought a moment, "When I know you will no longer judge me, and you will accept me for who I am."

Darcy could have argued. She could have said she didn't care what mysterious thing he had done all those years ago, no matter how horrible. But that would have been a lie. A renewed fear of the vampire refueled inside her. What if he had killed someone? For some reason, the thought didn't surprise her, and that made her all the more afraid. She could tell Mr. Crepsley was exactly the kind of person that had a dark past, and now she was a part of his life. But he had been civil to her all this time, he had even been . . . _caring_ at times. He called her beautiful at the party, and he had slipped into the habit of holding her hand whenever they walked about together. He could even be sweet at times, but those moments were very rare. To be honest, she had no idea what exactly was going on in that orange-topped head of his.

They were shuffling through the grass after making a complete round of the Cirque when Mr. Crepsley did it again, almost without thinking; he slipped his hand in hers, holding her closely at his side. Why does he do that? Was it some vampire thing he had yet to explain to her, or did he just enjoy doing it? She looked up at him, the moon high over his head, and the corners of his lips were curved upward in a content smile. Maybe he _was_ enjoying it? While she was looking at him, he ran his thumb of the hand she was holding over her skin, _affectionately?_

Darcy quickly looked away and spoke up to quiet the voices inside her head. "So?"

"Hm?" He asked, glancing down at her.

"You haven't given me my birthday present yet."

"I have."

"You have?"

He nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"What was it?"

"You are wearing it, my dear."

"The dress?"

He nodded again.

"Oh, thank you so much. I thought Truska bought it for me. Anyway, it's really beautiful, I-," she stopped, looked down at her crimson dress and then looked over at Mr. Crepsley's crimson suit. She said flatly, "We're matching, aren't we?"

"I am glad you have finally noticed."

"You bought us matching clothes."

"Just the color matches, vampire gods above, do not sound so upset."

"I'm not," Darcy said, an amused grin breaking out on her lips. "We must look like a pair, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," he said, watching her with a small smile.

They walked back into camp in companionable silence, but when Darcy released his hand to go to bed, he spoke.

"I would not go back to Truska's tent if I were you."

"Why?"

"I saw her leave with a friend. They were giving each other amorous looks, so I would not be surprised if she led him back to her tent to . . ."

"Oh," Darcy said, feeling her face grow warm.

"Anyways," Mr. Crepsley continued, "I have room in my van for you, if you would like?"

Darcy agreed and followed him back to his van. For a moment she had wondered if they were going to be sharing his coffin, but then she saw how it was only big enough for one.

"There are, however, coffins made for two people, which are usually used by mates."

"Mates?" Darcy asked, "Vampire's have mates, like, lovers, or something?" She blushed, a bit embarrassed at the subject matter.

He laughed when he noticed her discomfort. "Yes, of course. Even the lowest of monsters need a loving companion. When a vampire mates, it is our way of getting married. The marriage lasts some years or so." Mr. Crepsley set blankets and pillows for her on the floor of the van, and he stepped into his coffin.

"So I take it you never got married," Darcy suggested, snuggling down in her make-shift bed.

"I never said that," Mr. Crepsley said with a mischievous grin and he lay down, letting the coffin lid slowly close.

Darcy stared at the coffin, hungry for more information, and she made a mental note to it bring up to him in the future. She thought about what kind of woman would fall in love with Mr. Crepsley and actually . . . mate with him. Her stomach flipped at the thought.

After she slipped off to sleep, she dreamed of weddings and sharing a small coffin with an orange-haired vampire.


	25. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Eight

After a couple hours of sleep, Darcy left Mr. Crepsley's van and went to Truska's tent to change out of her birthday dress. Thankfully Truska and her date from last night were no longer there, so she could go in without any embarrassment. She changed back into her black gypsy dress and joined Evra to do chores. They were hunting food for the Little People and haven't had the best of luck; the animals just didn't seem to be out and about that day. Until Darcy spotted a squirrel scurry down one tree and race over to a neighboring one. She dropped her bag and shot after it. She could just imagine the squirrel's brown eyes ballooning out of his eye sockets when looking behind to see a giant creature racing after him. Darcy's bared her teeth like a wild animal when she pounced on top of the meal. But the moment she hit the ground, intending to crush the creature, her vision blurred and her head spun. Her muscles relaxed and her face hit the grass with a _thump. _The little squirrel squealed, but squirmed its way out from under Darcy and sprinted away, back up the tree. When it reached the highest branch, it huffed and tittered angrily down at them. Darcy groaned as the colors of the forest swirled before her eyes.

"Darcy!" Evra shouted. He hurried over and fell to his knees at her side. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Taking deep deliberate breaths, she waited until the dizziness and nausea passed. Evra grasped her shoulder. "Hey, Darcy, what's wrong?"

She just shook her head, but she knew what was happening. This was some kind of dizzy spell brought on from lack of blood. Just the occasional animal was less than satisfactory. She needed something more and she knew it, but she couldn't give in. She wouldn't.

"I'll be fine," she told her friend. _For now_, she added in her mind. Evra helped her sit up, and her head spun momentarily, but it soon passed.

"You know," Evra said hesitantly. "I've been keeping this to myself, but you look horrible."

"Oh, thanks," she said with a small smile.

"I'm serious, Darcy," he stressed. "You've gotten really pale and skinny. You look like you'll break if you do any more hard work." He grasped her shoulder, thinking for a moment, and then he said darkly, "I'm going to tell Mr. Crepsley about this."

"No," Darcy said, quickly grabbing his arm. "Please, don't tell Mr. Crepsley. If he knows I almost fainted he won't get off my case about drinking human blood."

"But for the better," Evra said. "At least Mr. Crepsley cares whether you die or not."

"You don't know that for sure," she said gloomily.

"Oh, come on, Darcy. Of course he does." Evra picked up their bags with one hand and wrapped her arm around his shoulder with the other. He helped her up off the ground and half-carried her back to the Cirque. Darcy was served a turkey burger with sweet potato fries, though she could have ate several zebras, blood and all. Evra gave her a rabbit from their meager catch of the day for the Little People. Thankfully, Darcy wasn't pestered for not working the rest of the day. She must have looked worse than she originally thought.

Mr. Crepsley found her sitting at one of the picnic tables finishing dinner. He was wearing his usual black shirt and pants with a red vest, and Darcy didn't see him through the darkness until he was standing right next to her. When she noticed him, she gasped and jumped, banging her plate of food. She groaned in irritation, casting a glare up at the sneaky vampire master; he could be very quiet when he needed to be.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she complained, and then looked on the ground, "Aw, come on, you made me drop my pork chops." She bent over to pick up the bits of meat with her fork when Mr. Crepsley grasped her elbow, making her stand.

"We are going somewhere."

Darcy dropped her fork and saw Mr. Crepsley had his long jacket in one hand.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he pulled her away from the other diners.

He swirled on his jacket in one smooth motion and popped up the collar. Darcy pretended not to be impressed. "We are going to visit a friend of mine," he replied. They were away from the fires, but they could see each other well now that Darcy's eyes adjusted. Mr. Crepsley sighed, long and heavy. "Evra Von told me what happened today."

_What? _"That silver-tongued reptile," she hissed angrily.

"And now I see you never planned on telling me," Mr. Crepsley said with hurt in his voice.

"You would've just complained more."

"Yes," he said honestly. "Just keep in mind that the dizzy spells will only become worse until you go unconscious and do not wake up altogether."

Darcy gulped.

Mr. Crepsley turned his back on her, bending over slightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped onto his back. He grasped her thighs on either side of his hips and began to run. He flit until Darcy saw lights from buildings. They stopped in front of a tall three story building that was closed for the night.

"Where are we?" Darcy asked, but Mr. Crepsley curtly shushed her.

He started to walk around the building and beckoned her to follow. They rounded to the back and when Mr. Crepsley tried the door, it was locked. He placed a hand, fingers splayed, against the metal and snapped the fingers on his other hand. There was a single click and he turned the handle, opening the door. Darcy suppressed a smile; that little unlocking trick never ceased to amaze her. She followed him up a flight of stairs and went through another door, which was unlocked. They were in some kind of lobby, only there weren't any magazines to look at or chairs to sit in, only a dying fern sitting randomly on the counter. Mr. Crepsley approached the counter and knocked on the glass separator. A man appeared on the other side in a mask and scrubs, and Darcy thought he was a doctor.

The man's eyes grew wide, with surprise or fear, she wasn't sure.

"Larten Crepsley, you old devil!" He said, opening the glass separator. "I thought you were dead." When he lowered his mask Darcy saw he was smiling.

"It certainly would not be the first time someone has thought that," Mr. Crepsley said, grinning in return. He shook hands with the man. "How is it going, Jimmy?"

"Oh, respectively slow," he replied. "People just aren't dying as much as they used to, you know?"

Mr. Crepsley nodded.

_Say what? _Darcy's ears perked up. _What about people dying?_

"Who's your friend?" Jimmy asked, beckoning to Darcy.

"This is Darcy Shane." Mr. Crepsley wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to the counter. "She is my companion, as well as a half-vam-,"

"Don't say it," Jimmy interrupted, holding a hand up politely. "You know how that word still freaks me out." He nodded to her. "Nice to meet you, Darcy. I'm Jimmy Ovo."

"What did you mean about people dying?" Darcy asked.

The adults laughed.

"I'm a pathologist," Jimmy explained between chuckles. "I look at corpses to see how they died. Not all, of course, just the ones that have died suspiciously. The hospital keeps the bodies here until kin come to claim them or I finish the report for the Police Department."

"And are," Darcy looked into the large room behind him, "the bodies in there?"

"Yup," Jimmy said, lifting the counter for them to enter. "Right this way."

She had never been in a morgue before, so she wasn't really sure what to expect. She almost thought there would be dead bodies all over the place and the room would stink of rotting flesh. But she could only see one body on a metal table with a white sheet overtop. Other than that the room was neat, bright, and smelled like a combination of cleaner and rubber gloves. Large cabinets lined the walls; she knew they were too big for filing papers, and she could just imagine the hundreds of dead bodies resting behind each metal slat. While she stared at the dead body covered by the sheet, the men conversed.

"You won't believe who stopped by here a few years back," Jimmy said.

"Who?"

Jimmy sniffed heavily through the nose and cleared his throat.

"_Gavner Purl?" _Mr. Crepsley howled with laughter. "I have not seen that clumsy old dog in centuries!"

They talked more about this Gavner Purl, who Darcy found out was also a vampire, until Mr. Crepsley asked, "So, Jimmy, I see things have been slow, but do you have anything fresh in stock?"

"There's a man in his thirties that died in a car crash some eight hours ago."

"I suppose that would do." Mr. Crepsley pulled out a couple empty bottles.

"Wait, what? You're going to take blood?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, I need to refill."

"But they're dead," she said, appalled.

"So I have noticed," Mr. Crepsley said, unimpressed with his assistant pointing out the obvious.

"But that's just . . . that is _disgusting_." Darcy blanched. "I thought vampires couldn't drink from someone who's dead, the blood will have gone sour."

"I agree it will not taste fresh, but it is consumable. And besides, this is easier than hunting for live humans. It takes less time."

"It's wrong," Darcy complained. "Isn't it?"

"I do not see why. The dead no longer have a use for their blood, making them perfect for us to feed from." He turned to Jimmy, "Now, hurry up and show us the body, I do not have all night."

Darcy felt her face growing warm, knowing Mr. Crepsley was getting into another one of his tempers. Jimmy quickly opened a cabinet, revealing a pale blonde man with a nasty bruise on his forehead. Jimmy stepped back and Mr. Crepsley swooped in, driving a deep cut over the man's heart. He opened the chest and Darcy could see the red oval organ covered in blue and purple veins. She fought back a gag reflex as Mr. Crepsley pierced the heart and stuck a clear tube into the incision, and he stuck the other end into the mouth of a bottle. He wrapped his pale claws around the heart and squeezed it. Blood poured into the tube and filled the bottle.

Watching him work, Darcy could imagine him grasping her own heart, small and delicate in his cold, pale hands, and she swallowed back a whimper, looking away.

She and Jimmy waited silently as he filled eight bottles, each corking and slipping them into his jacket. When he was finished, he faced Darcy and looked down at her intensely.

"Now, Darcy, this is your chance to finally get over your nonsensical fear."

"No," Darcy said instantly, taking a step away.

His faced hardened, and his voice came out low and threatening. "You are free to drink from this person; they no longer need their blood. They are _dead_."

"I just can't," Darcy said, taking another step away. "I can't drink from a dead person."

"But you do not drink from a live one either!" He growled. "There is no harm in drinking from a human who is already dead. A dead person does not feel pain. No one will know but us. There is nothing to fear, Darcy!"

"Wait, hold on." Jimmy said. "If you're gonna be feeding off the corpse, I think I'm just gonna go-"

"Quiet!" Mr. Crepsley shouted, his burning eyes never leaving Darcy's. He grasped her arms and brought her closer to him and the corpse. He growled into her face. "You are a vampire's assistant. _My_ assistant. It is time you start acting like one. You have to drink and you will drink, _now_. I will not take this petty foolishness any longer."

Darcy felt small and vulnerable in his clutches. Her heart pounded in her chest as she begged up to him. "Please, not tonight. Not now. I can't feed from a corpse. It's sick. But I will feed from a live human the next time we hunt, okay? I promise. Just . . . please."

Mr. Crepsley stared at her, and although the hardness never left his eyes, he uncurled his fingers from her arms and released her. "One night you will realize how foolish you are being." Then he hissed, "I just hope, by then, you are not beyond saving."

He twirled away from her and left the room swiftly. He thanked Jimmy and Darcy waved good-bye sadly. The pathologist waved back with pity in his eyes. When they left the morgue, Mr. Crepsley relocked the back door and beckoned her to jump on his back without a word. She winced when he unnecessarily dug his sharp nails into her thighs as he held on.

They flit back to the Cirque Du Freak in cold silence. When they arrived, Darcy followed him as they strode between the tents. Before he retreated to his coffin, he grabbed her and pushed her against the side of his van.

"If you die," he said his breath hot on her face, "it is not my fault."

"Fine," she snapped back.

He growled and released her, storming off to sulk in his coffin. Darcy was too frazzled to sleep. Sleeping in the same room as an angry vampire master didn't seem like a good idea, so she stayed up to watch the sun rise. Thoughts of death plagued her mind and she wondered . . . what if she really did die soon? Before she became a half-vampire, she had only corresponded death with old or sick people. But her? She was too young to die. She had a whole life ahead of her, a_ whole long life_, thanks to her vampire blood. Was it worth it to stick around? Not drinking human blood was the only thing keeping her from losing her humanity. If she did drink, she was no worse than all the other monsters in the world. She thought about Mr. Crepsley and how his blood ran through her veins and she asked herself again . . . Was it worth it?


	26. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Nine

Darcy didn't get a wink of sleep and Evra found her with black bags under her eyes when they went off to do their daily chores. When they finished, Darcy and Evra met up with Sam, who took them to an abandoned railroad station about two miles away from the Cirque. Darcy was unsure about going so far from camp, but Sam's description of the place made it sound like it could be fun.

"There's a huge three story building to play in, with a couple train cars and old tracks. It's a great place to hang out!"

"It sounds kind of dangerous," Darcy said.

"That's what my mom said," Sam explained. "The abandoned railroad station is the only place she tells me to stay away from. But I've been there loads of times, and I haven't gotten hurt or anything."

Evra and Darcy exchanged uncertain glances, but being the older kids, they felt compelled to join.

And they were glad they did: the place looked amazing! There were a couple buildings including the three story guardhouse and it reminded Darcy of a tiny town. They raced across the rusty railroad tracks and played tag around the abandoned railroad cars. Out of breath from laughing and running, they climbed on one of the cars and lay down on the roof, sunbathing. As Darcy soaked up the rays, she thought about how she wouldn't be able to enjoy the sun's warmth ever again after she became a full vampire. _If _she became a full vampire, anyway, depending on whether she could ever bring herself to drink human blood.

As Sam lay on his back, hands resting behind his head, he said, "You know what would be cool?"

"What?" Evra asked lazily. He was resting beside Darcy on his stomach.

"We should become blood siblings."

"Huh?" Darcy's ears perked at the word "blood."

"What do you mean 'become blood siblings'?" Evra asked, propping up on his elbows.

Sam sat up excitedly, crisscrossing his legs. "What we do is we make a cut in the palms of our hands or in our fingers, and we bring our wounds together and share blood."

_Like changing someone into a vampire_, thought Darcy. She instantly disliked the idea.

"With each other's blood in our veins, we then promise to be best friends for the rest of our lives, no matter what."

"I still want to be friends," Evra said, "but I don't think it would be the best idea to share my snake blood."

Sam looked like he could care less about gaining snake blood, but Evra's mind was obviously made up. So he turned to Darcy expectantly.

Of course, Darcy and Evra never told Sam she was a half-vampire, so she had no obvious excuse like Evra did. As kind as she could, she said, "I want to be your friend forever." Sam gave her a sloppy grin at this. "But it sounds kind of dangerous. What if our cuts got infected?"

Sam shrugged and looked away, trying to hide his disappointment. "Oh, um, alright then. If you're gonna be chicken about it."

"I'm sorry?" Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You heard me," Sam said, a taunting smile pulling at one corner of his lips. "You're just too chicken. You're a coward. Admit it!"

"I am not!" Darcy exclaimed, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest.

Sam rolled over on his stomach a reached a hand over the side of the railroad car. Darcy heard something break and when Sam brought his hand back up, he had a sharp piece of glass from the window.

"Let's do it then," he said giddily. He pressed the pointed end of the shard into the palm of his hand and made a cut a couple inches long. A neat line of blood bloomed from the wound. He handed Darcy the piece of glass.

She took it and held it to her palm like Sam had.

"Darcy," Evra said warningly. When she looked at him, he shook his head slightly.

He knew about her vampire blood, perhaps he was right. She wasn't sure if only a little blood would hurt Sam, but better safe than sorry.

Darcy took the glass away from her hand, and she tossed the piece over the side of the railroad car. Sam scoffed as he watched it fly through the air and shatter on the railroad track. Darcy wrapped her arms around him in a bone crushing hug.

"You'll always be my friend, Sam," she said.

Sam's face darkened as he sulked, but when Darcy pulled away, she saw he was blushing.

"Nah," he waved her away, "You're just a fraidy cat."

They bantered until Sam suggested they check out the guard house. The doors and window sills had rotted away with time and the glass was missing from most of the windows. Next to the stairs, in the living room, the floor had collapsed into a sink hole and when they looked up, they could see all the way to the rafters in the attic.

"Come on," Sam said, heading up the stairs. The old wood creaked under his weight and Darcy worried it would break out from under him. She exchanged glances with Evra, but he just shrugged. Sam took them to the very top where the attic used to be, but the smaller planks had long since rotted away, leaving the thick rafters. There were four rafters stretching out the span of the house and each rafter was about a foot thick. Looking down, they were four floors up, including the basement. Sam placed a tennis shoe on a rafter in the middle, and he stood on it completely.

Darcy gasped and quickly took hold of his arm. "What're you doing? You can't cross that!"

"Why not?" He asked, taking a step away from her with a sly grin. "The wood is plenty thick to hold our weight." Then, before the heart-attack could register in Darcy's chest, Sam walked across the rafter thirty-five to forty feet above the ground. When he was on the other side he smiled at them triumphantly. "Your turn."

"Easy," Evra said and he took the rafter on the very end.

"You too?" Darcy asked, shocked.

"_Hello_," Evra said sarcastically as he lay on his stomach on the rafter. "I'm a snake boy, remember. I was made to creep, crawl, and climb." He slithered smoothly over the wood and when he made it to the other side, he and Sam high-fived.

"Come on, Darcy," they said.

"But _I'm_ not a reptile," she said, and then added, "or overly ambitious."

Sam stuck his tongue out at her.

"But I'll do it, okay?" She knew she could handle the task with her vampire agilities. So she stepped onto the rafter between Evra's and Sam's and practically ran across.

"Alright!" Sam cheered and Evra gave her a congratulatory pat on the back.

After that, it was like they forgot they were standing forty feet above ground. One slip and they would certainly land to their death, if not get some seriously broken bones. They raced over the rafters to see who could run, or slither in Evra's case, across fastest. Sam was quick for a little guy, and Darcy's vampire blood made her fast, but nothing beat Evra's born ability to creep, crawl, and climb. After Evra was dubbed winner, Sam suggested they play a game where they stand in the middle of the rafters and try to mirror each other's movements. By this point, Darcy had no worries about the deadly height, and she was up for the challenge. Sam started by waving his hands about and standing on one leg; Evra and Darcy followed his lead. Then he bent over to touch his toes, and when she did so, blood rushed to her head. As she unfolded out of the bend, her head spun and she was attacked with another dizzy spell. She wobbled a bit on the rafter and was about to bend her knees to sit safely, but she lost her balance too late.

She lost her footing, and fell.

Darcy called out in alarm as she flew through the air. Instinctually, she waved her hands about and one caught onto the rafter as she descended. She dug her fingers into the wood and held on for her life. Evra and Sam yelled out to her. Evra jumped to his stomach and reached a hand out to grab her free hand. Sam ran off his rafter faster than she had seen while they raced. He moved over her rafter quickly but carefully and sat on his knees when he reached her.

He took the wrist of the hand she had clawed into the wood and said as calmly as he could, "I've got you, okay? Bring your other hand up here. Good." He reached down and held onto one of her dress's thick straps. "On three, swing your legs to the side, try to wrap your legs around the rafter and at the same time I'll pull you up, okay?"

Darcy nodded frantically; she could hardly even breathe.

"One . . . two . . . three," Darcy swung herself to the side and Sam pulled her up. With their combined efforts she straddled the rafter with one leg and was able to hoist herself up the rest of the way. After a moment of rest, Sam held her hand as they walked carefully off the rafter. She and the boys quickly left the house without a word.

She wrapped her arms around Sam's scrawny little neck and kissed his cheek.

"Sam, you saved me!"

"It was nothing," he said, flinching with each kiss she pecked him with.

She held his shoulders, arm-length apart, and said, "Are you kidding me? I would've definitely fallen if it weren't for you."

"You would've done the same."

"Yeah, probably," Darcy admitted with a smile, "But I still owe you." She linked elbows with the boys and they started walking back to the Cirque. "Anything you want or need, just ask me and I'll do anything to make sure you get it."

"Really?" Sam asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, I know that look," Evra laughed.

"There_ is _something you could do."

"Shoot," Darcy said.

"Get me into the Cirque Du Freak."

Darcy stopped in her tracks and hit her forehead with her palm. "Oh, Sam, I've still forgotten to ask Mr. Tall."

"Come on, Darcy," Sam wined, "You've got to ask him. I've got to live with the Cirque. Say, here's an idea, I'll come help you with some chores tomorrow and maybe your boss will see me and ask me to join."

"I don't know if it'll work that way," Darcy said slowly, "But you're welcome to hang out with us while we work."

"So it's a deal," he said finally. "I'll come tomorrow and you'll ask your boss."

Darcy sighed, "Yeah, okay."

"Hey, kiddos," Evra spoke up, "I hate to ruin a good moment . . . but _what_ is that _smell?"_

The three of them sniffed heavily at once.

"Oh, my-"

"Cripes."

"Told you."

Suddenly hands grasped Darcy's shoulders.

"Gotcha!" A scruffy voice shouted behind them, and the hands pushed her forward.

Darcy lost her footing and fell face-first on the hard ground. At the last second her hands shot beneath her to break her fall, but her face pounded on a rock and she felt her cheek slice open. She saw Evra and Sam jump away from her attacker, but a shadow moved in her line of vision.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," the man said. Darcy looked up and saw a big hairy face looking down at her; his eyes were kind so she didn't sense any real danger. "I was only playing, man. I hate to be the reason for any pain. You okay?"

Darcy's hands were cut up from taking the impact, but thanks to her vampire blood, she healed quicker than humans. The slice on her cheek, however, was deeper and wouldn't go away without real attention.

She said as the man helped her up, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"That's a nasty gash," he said. "Man, I hate seeing so much blood. I hope it doesn't hurt." He handed her a rag out of his pocket, granted it was filthy, but it was better than nothing.

"It's okay," she replied.

"'Cause if you are in any pain, I can give you some seriously good herbs to take you above and beyond the pains of this world."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the man. He was a big guy, tall and wide, and practically his entire face was covered with bushy black hair. His clothes were dirty and he stank like he had never bathed in his life. His smell made Darcy's eyes water, but he looked nice, so she didn't say anything.

"So where're you all from?" He asked.

"I'm a local," Sam explained, and he pointed to Darcy and Evra, "They're from the local freak show circus."

The man's eyes hardened at this news. "A freak show, huh?" He took in Evra's snake skin and he asked, "They don't beat you, do they? Do they feed you well? Are you caged? Do you get payment?"

"No, yes, no, and my payment is being able to live at the Cirque Du Freak."

"It's a good place," Darcy said, familiar with people's dislike for freak shows. "The people are well taken care of."

"And the animals?" The man asked, "I'm more concerned about the animals, actually. Animals are innocent to the evil ways of man."

The kids exchanged glances.

"Of course the animals are treated well."

"My pet snake, who's a part of my performance, is well fed and groomed."

The man looked satisfied with this, and the hardness left his eyes. He laughed, "Well, that's a relief, man, you hear rumors about these traveling shows, and well, you can't help but wonder, right?"

He stuck his hand out to them. "Where are my manners? My name's R.V.?"

"R.V.?" Darcy asked.

"That's kind of funny," Sam said.

"It stands for something, right?" Evra asked. "R.V."

"Yeah," R.V. said slowly, "it stands for Reggie Veggie."

Sam burst out laughing. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Reggie's my first name, but people called me Reggie Veggie when I was a kid 'cause I'm a vegetarian. And I know some people think it's cute to have their own little nick names, but just so you know, I'm not very fond of it."

Darcy shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, R.V. I'm Darcy Shane."

"Sam Grest."

"Evra Von."

He shook all of their hands in turn.

R.V. was one of the ecowarriors living in the camp Darcy and Mr. Crepsley saw on their way over to the Cirque. Like Mr. Tall had said, the ecowarriors called themselves NOP or Nature's Opposing Protectors. They traveled around the country saving forests and animals from greedy men. While most of the time they hand out pamphlets and fliers to the public to get their attention, they resort to foul play at times to get the greedy businessmen's attention as well.

"If it was up to me, man, I would use all the power we had available, even if that included our fists. People need to stand up for Nature, while so many moneymakers keep trying to beat her down."

It turned out NOP was in the area because the government wanted to build a road branching off a long highway in order to save driver's time. R.V. complained about all the land and animals that will be destroyed. While he spoke, Darcy sensed his passion and couldn't help but agree with him.

He invited them for lunch and brought them over to the NOP campsite. Darcy had never seen anything like it. Everyone lived in handmade huts out of branches and moss. Bed were simply made of weaved mats and clothing.

"We're simply people," R.V. explained, "We lead a simple life because simple is all we ever need, man." 

Darcy almost liked the thought of living a simple lifestyle, but then she saw what kind of food they ate, and she immediately changed her mind. They didn't eat meat, or eggs, or cheese. Only fruits, vegetables, and nuts. After they finished lunch, Darcy's stomach still growled with hunger.

After they ate, Sam, Evra, and Darcy said good-bye to R.V.

"You're welcome back anytime, but make sure it's soon 'cause we've almost won the fight here. Once we do, we must move on and seek other quests. Battles come and go, man, but the war is never-ending."

When they were in the forest and out of earshot, Darcy said, "Who's still starving?"

"Me," Evra and Same said at once.

"I wish I didn't leave my pickled onions at home," Sam said, and then his eyes glazed over. "Oh, now I'm _really_ hungry."

"So what did you think of R.V.?" Darcy asked.

"He's weird," Evra replied.

"At least he's doing what he believes in," Sam said. "It's kind of heroic, what he's doing. We need more people like him, with passion. He cares for which most people give little thought to."

Darcy and Evra exchanged glances. Both of them had to be thinking the same thing: _This kid is so smart! _

After Sam waved good-bye and ran back home to his parents and pickled onions, Evra said, "He makes me feel kind of dumb."

"Yeah, but that's okay," Darcy said, smiling, "It's a comfort knowing at least somebody is using their brain."

Evra narrowed his eyes at her and said flatly, "I'd be offended by that if only I didn't completely agree."

When they returned to the Cirque, they had dinner, and tonight was another one of those nights where people were in the mood to dance and hang out. Darcy, however, sulked with her head in her hands at the picnic table, watching the others have fun.

She didn't hear the footsteps or the rustle of fabric against skin, and when Mr. Crepsley spoke in her ear, she jumped.

"You are not dancing as usual."

She growled angrily and whacked him on the arm with her paper plate. "Stop. Doing. That!"

"It is not my fault your hearing is less than satisfactory."

"My hearing's fine, you've just got issues." She sighed, trying to bury her anger. "I'm not dancing because I don't have the energy. I had another dizzy spell and it almost cost me." She saw the concern in Mr. Crepsley's eyes and waited for the lecture. But, surprisingly, it didn't come.

He sat down at the picnic table next to her and took her chin gently in his hand. He turned her head so she faced him directly.

"Is that where this wound came from?" He asked.

She had almost forgotten about the cut on her cheek. It stung whenever the breeze blew on it, but she wasn't completely bothered. Mr. Crepsley held her face in his hands and tilted her head to the side, inspecting the wound.

"It is deep, but fortunately the blood has congealed to stop the flow."

"Will I need stitches?" Darcy asked with worry.

"Nonsense, besides, scars are considered highly attractive to vampires."

"Really?" She asked.

He smiled sadly at her. "But I am afraid I would be the only vampire you would ever impress taking your health into consideration."

Darcy looked away. She knew the subject of drinking human blood was bound to come up eventually, especially after last night. She had never seen him so infuriated with her before. He had never grabbed her or touched her in a menacing way until then. It made her all the more aware of how much she wasn't in control. Mr. Crepsley knew he could do whatever he liked with her, treated her however he liked. She was his assistant; therefore, she couldn't resist his ways.

"Here," the vampire master said. He licked his index finger and ran it along the length of her cut. Darcy sighed with relief when the stinging pain ceased.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. Her eyes concentrated once more on him when he didn't lift his finger from her face, but brushed it softly over the skin where her cut had been. His eyes went hazy and deep with thought.

"Crepsley?" Darcy asked.

He blinked, coming back to earth. When he saw her raise an eyebrow at him he shook away the last of his thoughts and dropped his hand from her face. He stood up from the picnic table and straightened his vest. "I have only come to tell you to sleep in my van today." Without another word, he strode away into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows.

Darcy gaped at the place he disappeared. What was that all about? Why did he want her to sleep in his van? She looked at Truska who was dancing with her fellow. Maybe he knew Truska was going to be . . . busy tonight and wanted Darcy to know she had a place to sleep. She was thankful for the vampire's kindness, despite being a brute last night.

Evra tried to get her to dance with him, but she declined, knowing it wouldn't be a good idea with her poor health.

"Hey," he said into her ear, "if you're going to die anyway, you might as well die dancing."

He got her there. Rolling her eyes with a smile, she took his hand and joined the others as they moved to the music. She danced as long as she could, but the heat from the fire and the exertion became too much for her and she soon retired back to the picnic table to rest. Was this how it was going to be until she died? Slow and painful with little energy to do anything fun? Darcy slipped into a miniature depression and left the table. She decided to turn in early since there was little else she would rather do. She wasn't sure if Mr. Crepsley was still walking about because the coffin was closed, but she made her bed and snuggled down comfortably in the bed sheets.

Darcy had the worst dream. She was being pursued by Mr. Tiny in his sickly yellow suit, only no matter how much she ran, he kept popping up right behind her. Then, finally, he went in for the kill and pushed her into the ground. Des Tiny grasped her neck and began choking her.

Then Darcy woke, and she was still being pushed into the floor. A hand was clenching at her jaws, trying to pry them open, while another hand held a bottle and tried pouring its liquid contents into her mouth. She bit down on the bottle top and it shattered, cutting her bottom lip. The man swore as most of the liquid spilled out, and he tried to pour the rest down her throat. He succeeded, but Darcy instantly spit it out. The liquid had tasted metallic and familiar in some way. The man swore again and then released his hold on her. He sat back on his haunches, breathing deeply.

Darcy shot up when she saw her attacker had orange hair.

"What are you doing?" She screamed at Mr. Crepsley. Anger flared in her chest and it masked the pain from the cut on her lip.

He held out his hand to her, revealing one of the bottles he used to store blood at the morgue.

Darcy's mouth dropped, and she roared at him, "You tried to get me to drink human blood!"

"I had to try," he said. "You are wasting away. You need to feed or you are going to die soon. I wish it did not have to resort to this, but if I could not convince you to drink, then I had no choice but to force you."

"How dare you?" Darcy hissed. "You know how I feel about human blood, how could you force me?"

He looked away from her livid gaze. "I thought if I could at least get you to try human blood, you would get over your fear of it."

"By ramming it down my throat?" Darcy asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "I suspected it would not work, but I had to try. If I could have at least got you to drink a little, you would have become better. You would have felt so much healthier. If only you passed this phase and learned to respect the taste of human blood."

"Never!" She shouted. "I will _never_ drink human blood."

"I do not understand," Mr. Crepsley said. "Why will you not drink?"

"Because I'm being good, I'm being human!"

"But you are not human."

"I know," Darcy wined.

"Tell me, what can I do to convince you to drink?"

"Make me human again," Darcy said pleadingly. "I want to be normal. I want normal friends. I want to marry a man I love and . . . and have a family. I want to worry about getting bills and paying the mortgage, not about sunlight or vampire hunters." Tears streamed down her face. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life hunting humans like a monster in nightmares. I don't want to be the source of everyone's nightmares."

"This is your fate, Darcy. This is the hand you have been dealt and you must deal with it."

"This is the life you cursed me with!"

He sighed, "I know. But like you said before, 'What is done is done.' You are stuck with me and that is how it is. But believe me, I would rather you ran away or were kidnapped, anything so I would not have to watch you die."

"Why do you care so much about having to see me die?"

"Because I meant what I said all those months ago," Mr. Crepsley said calmly. "I want you, Darcy. I admire you. I care for you. I do not want to see those I care about suffer."

Darcy stared at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. Then she shook her head slowly. "I don't understand you at all."

The corners of Mr. Crepsley's lips curved upward. "Nor I you," he said tenderly.

So he _did_ care about her, he said so himself. This discovery made the angry fire in her chest cool, and she mustered a smile at the vampire. How could she hate him so fiercely when he only wanted what was best for her?

She sagged back against the wall of the van and took deep breaths to calm herself. Mr. Crepsley wouldn't try to force her again. She hated him for trying, but she looked at the vampire affectionately for being so concerned about saving her life.

When she was calm enough, Darcy talked to him about what she did that day, going to the abandoned railroad station, and almost becoming blood siblings with Sam. Mr. Crepsley explained that it was a good thing she didn't go through with it. The vampire blood would have made Sam go crazy. She was relieved Evra had been there to convince her not make the pact.

"He really wants to join the Cirque," Darcy said hesitantly. "I intended to ask Mr. Tall, but I keep forgetting."

"Children can not join the Cirque unless a member agrees to be their guardian."

"I could be his guardian."

"At fifteen? No, you are far too young to be responsible for a child."

"I could handle it," Darcy said defensively. "I had my little sister, Annie, and I took care of her all the time without my parents help."

"Does Sam Grest know about your vampire blood?"

She bit her lip looking away.

"He does not, and how do you think he will feel discovering he was lied to and you could easily make him into your next meal?"

"I would never do that!"

"I know, because I know you, Darcy, but he is merely human. He would not understand our ways."

"Please," Darcy said gently, "he could be a companion for me."

"I am not companion enough?" Mr. Crepsley asked.

Darcy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hm," he grunted, "do not answer that."

"So could you let him join?"

He pursed his pale lips and after a moment he nodded slowly. "Yes."

Darcy's face lit up. "Yes! He can?"

"On one condition."

"Name it."

The vampire master leaned toward her and said with a smug smile. "He must become a half-vampire as well."

Darcy's hopeful smile slipped and she looked down at her lap sadly. Mr. Crepsley tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her head so she looked at him.

"What say you?"

"I . . . I couldn't allow that," she said, grief-stricken. "I wouldn't wish the life of a vampire on anyone."

"I know," Mr. Crepsley said softly.

She knew he was right: the only way Sam could join was if he became a half-vampire, and they would have to fake his death like Mr. Crepsley did for her. He had family, like she did. He would have people from all over the country searching for him if he just disappeared one day.

"I'll miss him," she said sadly.

"Friends are always difficult to leave," Mr. Crepsley explained, scooting over to sit beside her. "But be confident you are leaving Sam knowing you made the right decision. In the long run, making him stay with his own people is the healthiest."

"Did you ever consider that when you thought about changing me?"

They stared at each other for a long moment. Darcy's gaze was hard and direct, and Mr. Crepsley crumbled under it, looking away with hurt in his eyes.

"No, I did not," he admitted. "I only cared about my own selfish want."

She almost thought she would feel satisfaction in hearing him admit he was wrong, but she didn't. She felt only pity. Inching closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder silently, and they sat like that for a while.

"Sam will be here soon," she said quietly as though hesitant to interrupt the silence. She could see the sky was pink with the dawn outside the small window.

When her head left his shoulder, he said, "Tell him to forget about everything he knows about the Cirque Du Freak."

Darcy gave a small reluctant cry in the back of her throat and Mr. Crepsley held the side of her face with his hand.

"You can do it just fine. Scare he away if you need to, just do it."

She nodded and turned to leave the van when Mr. Crepsley stopped her.

"Wait," he frowned, looking at her mouth. "You are still bleeding."

Darcy touched her lips and her hand came away red with blood. "Yeah, no thanks to you," she said half-jokingly.

Mr. Crepsley licked his finger and was about to run it over the wound like he had done to her cheek last night, but he froze. His hand stopped halfway to her face, and he stared at her lips, his mouth parted slightly. Then he dropped his hand and leaned toward her.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, Mr. Crepsley's pale lips were on hers. He took her bottom lip in his mouth and ran his tongue over her wound smoothly. Darcy gave a little cry of alarm and she tried to move away, but her back was against the wall and Mr. Crepsley only moved with her. He sucked lightly, drawing out the blood and swallowing it.

When his lips left hers, he hardly moved an inch away. Darcy prepared to tell him, timidly, thank you for healing her. But before she could utter a syllable, his lips returned, pressing more urgently than before. He exhaled through his nose and the air was hot on her cheek.

Darcy might have been young, but she wasn't stupid. Mr. Crepsley no longer had a need to heal her. She could already feel the pain from the cut had vanished. She knew he wanted more by the way he pushed himself more forcefully upon her.

A small cry of protest escaped the back of her throat and she placed her hands on his chest, trying to push him off. Mr. Crepsley moved away from her as though he had been shot. He sat on his haunches, looking at her wide-eyed and breathless. His mouth was a little red from tasting her blood. Darcy gaped at him, impossible and incredulous thoughts racing through her mind.

She had never been kissed before and she had always imagined it to be loving, enjoyable. But her first kiss had to come from him. _Him_.

Darcy felt like crying, but she sucked the tears back, desperately not wanting him to see. She scooted away from him, closer to the door of the van. Her hands trembled as she tried to turn the handle. Why wouldn't it _open? _Then she realized it was locked and after she unlocked it, she looked at Mr. Crepsley over her shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something. What? Apologize? But then he gnashed his teeth, and his shoulders sagged as he hung his head. He covered his face with his hands.

"Darcy," he mumbled quietly.

She threw the door open and flew out of his van before he could stop her. She knew he wouldn't follow because the sun was rising.

The fact that her vampire master kissed her wasn't nearly as shocking as what she did while he kissed her. She had closed her eyes, like she had seen actresses do in the movies. She had closed her eyes, as though she had _enjoyed_ the kiss.

Darcy growled at the thought, clenching her hands into fists. She put as much space between herself and the vampire as quickly as she could, as though it would solve the problem. The problem being she couldn't get the thought of Mr. Crepsley and his healing kiss out of her head.


	27. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Ten

Evra could tell something was on Darcy's mind. While they hunted for food for the Little People, her eyes would be far away, and he had to speak her name several times to get her attention.

"Darcy!" He shouted for the umpteenth time.

She blinked and looked at him. "What?"

He held up a dead squirrel. "Squirrel for your thoughts?"

"That's disgusting," she said, but held out her gunny sack and he dropped the rotting animal in.

"You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?"

"You've been talking?"

Evra slapped his forehead with his palm, and he elbowed her in the ribs playfully. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh," she sighed, "lots of little things."

"You were normal last night, what happened since then?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, looking away from Evra as she pretended to search the horizon for any scurrying animals.

"Anything grumpy old Crepsley said?"

"No!" She burst out unexpectedly. When Evra raised an eyebrow at her she blushed and looked away.

"Oh," he said slowly and he grinned. "So what did he say this time?"

"You're getting a little nosey," she said.

"And you're avoiding the question," he replied.

"He didn't do anything. He didn't do anything at all. I don't know why you're so interested."

"I didn't ask you about what he 'did,' I asked you about what he 'said.'"

"I . . ." she was about to speak, then shut her mouth and glared at her friend. As dignified as she could, she tossed the gunny sack over her shoulder and shouted, "Same difference!" She stalked off, stomping her feet in the grass.

Evra stifled a chuckle as he followed her.

The snake boy couldn't hang out after chores because he needed to tend to his pet snake that had gotten sick. He warned that the snake was usually in a bad mood at times like these, so Darcy left him alone. She sulked around camp, unable to suppress the memory of what had happened that morning. Her thoughts kept fighting each other and she wasn't sure what to believe. Mr. Crepsley had done what he did to heal her cut, which he was responsible for. But didn't he linger just a _little bit_ longer than necessary? Darcy tried laughing off the thought she most feared. _She was only fifteen!_ He wouldn't have any interest in her, would he? But when she laughed, her voice came out hollow and unconvincing.

To make that day harder was when Sam came over and asked her once again if she got Mr. Tall's permission for him to join. She didn't forget what Mr. Crepsley had said: "Tell him to forget about everything he knows about the Cirque Du Freak . . . Scare him away if you need to."

Sam, bright-eyed and grinning, waved at her when she approached the edge of the forest where he waited. Slowly his smile fell when he saw the melancholy on Darcy's face.

"He . . . he said 'no,' didn't he?" He asked. The pain in his voice made Darcy's heart break.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Darcy said. "But it wouldn't work. You have a life already, family, everything. It would be too much of a risk for the Cirque to take you."

"Please," he begged, actually going to his knees and _begging_. "Please, I know everything there is to know about freak shows. I _have_ to join the Cirque."

"No, Sam!" Darcy shouted, taking Sam by surprise. He frowned at her and his eyes glistened with confused tears.

"Then I'll sneak in," he cried.

"Please don't-"

"When no one's looking, I'll hide in one of the vans or the cages. You can't stop me!"

Darcy growled in frustration. She curled her hands into fists and towered over him. She let her never-ending hunger fuel the roar that rolled its way up her throat and out her mouth. The monstrous sound made Sam cower backward with a small cry.

"Leave!" She screamed, baring her teeth.

He clambered to his feet and flipped around, running back into the forest without looking back.

When he was gone, Darcy's shoulders sagged and she choked back a sob. Ever since she turned into a half-vampire, she always wished no one would ever look at her that way. Afraid, like she was the monster she feared she was. The animal rested within her; that was why she couldn't drink human blood. She feared that one taste would set that animal free, and she would no longer be Darcy Shane, but a monster.

But scaring Sam was for the best. She had to be absolutely sure he wouldn't come back.

When she went back to camp, she wondered if this was what her life was coming to: always scaring away the people who grow close to her. No friends or family, no boyfriends. She considered Evra to be her only friend right now, and for that she was thankful. But for how long would they be friends? Mr. Crepsley said he never stayed long at the Cirque, it was only a place of rest for him. She feared that one day he would take her away from here and she would never see Evra or all the others from the Cirque again.

She considered how much time at the Cirque Du Freak she had left when she felt a tug on the hem of her dress. Darcy looked down and saw one of the Little People. The small guy, or girl, titled his head up at her, revealing to Darcy his mask which all the Little People always wore. They all looked similar, for the most part, but since she spent more time around them, she found little distinguishing features for each one. This Little Person in particular had a bad left foot that gave him a permanent limp. She and Evra named him Lefty. She wasn't sure why they named some of them. Maybe it was to make up for the fact they never spoke for themselves.

Lefty tugged on her dress again.

"What?" She asked, despite the fact she knew he wouldn't speak a reply.

He let go and rubbed his tummy.

Darcy sighed. "We just fed you. You can't still be hungry."

He rubbed his tummy again, more ardently.

"Can't you wait? We had a hard enough time finding food for this morning."

Lefty tugged on her dress roughly and then rubbed his tummy again.

She groaned, "Fine." If she didn't do something, she knew he would follow her around until she did. Perhaps she should be grateful; at least hunting was better than moping around all day. She picked up one of the sacks next to the Little People's encampment, and then set off into the forest.

Maybe it was because she was too distracted, or maybe the animals just didn't feel like coming out, but Darcy didn't see anything to catch. She waited outside a little burrow in the ground where rabbits or gophers might come out, but she got bored of that after half an hour. She strolled outside of the forest and found a lush field with a wooden fence cutting straight through. On the other side was a flock of sheep grazing on the grass.

Darcy slipped off her flats and walked around with a content sigh. The sun warmed the grass, making it soft as velvet against her skin. She dropped the sac and leaned against the fence, checking out the sheep. An idea rose in her mind. There were plenty of sheep in the field, a farmer would hardly notice if just one was missing. Besides she needed the meat, this was an emergency.

After bounding the fence, she looked over each of the sheep, looking for one with any defections. One stood apart from the others with its head bowed low while it chewed. Darcy walked over to it, running her hands over the legs and sides. The sheep was old, making it easiest to kill quickly. She stroked the head over and again until the old sheep closed its eyes. With a fast hand, she twisted the neck.

When the sheep bleated out in pain, she knew she failed in breaking the spinal cord. Darcy swore under her breath and tried wrestling the struggling animal to the ground. She hit it repeatedly, but she was too weak and only made the pain worse. Beside her she saw a small boulder. Taking it up, she smashed the sheep's skull in. Its suffering came to an erupt end; the animal fell still and relaxed into the grass.

Darcy fought back tears as she lapped up the blood on her hands.

"That's sick, man," a familiar voice said angrily behind her.

Darcy spun around on her knees to look behind. RV leaned against the fence, hands grasping the wood in a white knuckled grip. And he looked _mad_.

She held up her hands to calm him, but she noticed there was still blood on them and quickly brought them down. "RV, I can explain-"

"That wasn't just sick," he went on. His voice was hard behind his dirty beard. "That was monstrous."

"No," Darcy said desperately. "I needed to-"

"What did the poor sheep ever do to you, man?" He shook his head sadly.

"I know you don't like animals getting hurt, but I needed to do this. It's not bad when you kill them for food."

"How would you feel being killed maliciously and have your bones gnawed on? You wouldn't think it's too good then, would you?" His voice rose and he leaned threateningly over the fence.

"RV, calm down," Darcy said soothingly.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" He pounded the fence with his fist and Darcy flinched. "I'm tired of people like you, man, walking all over the living things in this world like you're so much better!" He pointed a dirty finger at her sitting in the grass. "Ever since you told me about that freak circus, I've been spying on the place."

"You've been what?" Darcy exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

"I needed to see if you kids had been telling the truth. And I'll admit I wanted to believe it was a good place."

"You did not," Darcy replied harshly, "I bet you tried to find the smallest flaw."

"I found what I was looking for. You keep that poor hairy man caged up."

"The wolf man," Darcy laughed. "We have to keep him caged or he'll kill everybody."

"Well, I don't blame him. If I was treated like that, man, I'd want revenge."

"It's not revenge, it's just his nature."

"How do you know? Maybe if you all treated him nicely . . ."

"You're making a mountain of a mole hill, RV. Some animals need to be caged for everyone's safety."

"Like you," he snapped. When Darcy frowned he explained, "You should be behind bars for what you've done. I've been looking for reasons to bring the police down here ever since I saw how the circus treated that hairy man." He held up one finger, "One for animal cruelty. And did you know it's illegal to slaughter farmer's stock?" He held up a second finger, "That's two lawful offenses, man, you're screwed." He dropped his hand and turned around without looking back.

"Don't go to the police, RV. Please!" Darcy called to him.

"This is out of my hands," he said over his shoulder. "That circus is going down. Justice is going to be served and there's nothing you can do to stop me-GAH!"

Darcy had loped over the fence and slammed into his back, taking him down. RV fell on his back and gazed frighteningly up at Darcy who loomed over him. She grabbed hold of his filthy shirt and brought the tips of their noses together.

"If you do anything to end the Cirque Du Freak," she growled behind clenched teeth, "then I will kill you."

"H-h-how did you do that?" He gasped. "You're just a kid. How did you-?"

"Shut up!" She shouted, bringing a hand back to slap him across the cheek, but before she brought it down, he cringed with a small cry.

"Don't hurt me, man, I'm only trying to do the right thing," he shivered on the ground and Darcy pitied him with malice.

She backed off and he crawled away from her reach. He stared at her, wide-eyed with fear and wonder.

"What the hell, man," he said, inching away from where she stood glaring down at him. "You really are a freaking monster."

His words tipped Darcy over the edge and, like she did to Sam earlier, she hunched over and snarled at him.

"Leave!"

He gasped, and sprinted away, swearing under his breath. She watched, panting, until he disappeared behind the concealment of the trees in the forest. Was he going to go to the police? She hoped her threats didn't turn out to be empty and that he will keep this encounter to himself. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else she could do, now, except warn Mr. Tall what happened.

Darcy quickly slipped on her flats and retrieved the dead sheep. She carried the animal in her arms back to the Cirque and dumped it in the Little People's feeding trough. She left to go to Mr. Tall's van, ignoring the Little People as they clapped at her happily.

The door to Mr. Tall's silver van opened as she brought up a hand to knock.

"Mistress Shane," he said in his deep voice, "Come in, please."

Wiping the look of surprise off her face, she stepped in past him. After sitting on the couch, she told him what happened with RV.

More calmly than Darcy liked, he said, "I had wondered if NOP would give the Cirque trouble." He looked down at his hands which were painting delicately on the face of an Alexander Ribs doll; Mr. Tall handmade all of the souvenirs sold at shows. "And he assured you he was going to the police?" His black eyes flickered up to her.

"Well, he said he would," Darcy hesitated, "before I tackled him to the ground. I threatened to kill him-"

"You should have," he replied.

"I . . . what?"

"Killed him," he explained simply. "You should have killed him and ended this mess."

Darcy paused, looking over the Cirque owner for any signs that he was joking. But he only continued painting the little Alexander doll. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"But no matter," he sighed. "We have dealt with the law in the past. It is nothing you need to worry about, Darcy."

When he didn't say anything after this, she wondered if that meant she was dismissed, and she stood up to leave. But after she opened the door, he spoke without looking up from his work.

"You may at times disagree with Mr. Crepsley's actions, but please, keep in mind your vampire master has only your best interests deeply at heart."

Darcy paused in the doorway, and then, without saying a word, left the silver van.


	28. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Eleven

A crowd was gathering beside Mr. Tall's van, near the very heart of the Cirque Du Freak. Darcy bustled her way through the people and saw at the center stood a man she had never seen before. But he was clearly well known to everyone else who showered him with hugs and handshakes. When Darcy got her first glimpse of Cormac Limbs he was embracing Evra Von like they were brothers.

"How's my favorite two-legged reptile?" Cormac asked Evra.

"Good," her friend replied with a wide grin.

"How's the shedding been going? Human reptile skin pays a pretty penny to the right seller."

"Don't worry, Cormac," Evra said. "I'll save every particle of skin, just for you."

Cormac laughed and ruffled Evra's green hair into his eyes. Evra spotted Darcy standing at the edge of the crowd and he waved her over. She excused her way past several people and Evra grasped her shoulder.

"Cormac, I'd like you to meet my new friend, Darcy Shane. Darcy, this is Cormac Limbs."

Cormac took her hand enthusiastically, flashing her a warm smile, and he said, "Any friend of Evra's is a friend of mine."

"She's new to the Cirque," Evra said, wiggling his eyebrows like little snakes. "You know what that means. You gotta show her what you can do!"

"Now, now," Cormac laughed good-naturedly. "This body is tired. I'm not a young as I once was. Maybe I'll give a demonstration tomorrow once I'm rested."

Darcy's curiosity was sparked and she asked, "What can you do?"

Those listening in the crowd joined in egging Cormac on.

Evra laughed, "Like I believe that." He leaned over and said to Darcy, "Cormac takes any chance he can get to show off."

"Alright, alright," Cormac sighed, dropping his traveling sac to the ground. "But just a little demonstration."

Darcy and Evra exchanged amused glances and cheers broke out in the crowd. Evra backed off to give Cormac room and Darcy followed him. A firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Not you, my dear," Cormac said, bringing her back towards him. "You can be my assistant."

Darcy looked over at Evra who only winked at her. She watched as Cormac began stretching, twisting his torso around, and rolling his shoulders. She wondered if he was some kind of acrobat, maybe a contortionist, and was only warming up his muscles. But then she heard scattered laughter throughout the crowd and she figured Cormac was only playing around. He stretched his arms high over his head and when he brought them down, he pointed a finger in her face.

"Bite my finger," Cormac ordered.

Darcy's eyes widened. "I'm sorry."

"Bite my finger," he repeated as though it was a completely normal question which he asked on a regular basis. Maybe it was.

"Um," she hesitated, but since she was curious she followed orders. "Okay," she said after she lightly bit down halfway to the knuckle.

"Now bite it off."

"Huh?" She squeaked. Was he insane?

"Go ahead; just pretend it's a raw carrot."

"But . . ."

"Go on, little bunny, bite the carrot."

People sniggered and laughed around them at Cormac's taunts.

With egging on from Evra she shrugged and bit down a little harder. She induced more pressure hoping he would stop her once it hurt too much. But Cormac only smiled at her blankly as she bit harder and harder until – the finger snapped off completely in her mouth! Darcy screamed and spit the severed finger out. She feared she would taste blood . . . but no. The little stump on the ground was clean of blood, as well as the four-fingered hand. She stared at Cormac in awe. He laughed at her shock. The crowd began to clap, but he brought up a hand to silence them. He held his hand out in front of her face and she watched in complete wonder as the missing finger began to grow back. It elongated from a little stub and became, once again, a normal finger just as before. When the growth was complete, Cormac held the hand up and waved it in the air; the crowd went wild with cheers.

Evra slapped her shoulder. "Isn't he amazing? She's still in shock!"

"How did you do that?" Darcy asked.

Cormac shrugged. "It's just the way I was born. My parents found out what I could do when I was a kid. Here's some advice: don't play dodge ball with scissors, okay?"

"And everything just grows back?"

"Yep," he replied, smiling, but his smile fell slightly, "well, I don't know about _everything_. I've never tried chopping off my head and . . . other appendages. I think it's best not to tempt fate."

"It's amazing," Darcy said breathlessly. She wondered how extensive his ability reached. Was he practically indestructible? While vampires healed faster than humans, Cormac could just grow back any damaged body part. Amazing.

"Why, thanks very much," Cormac grinned, glowing with pride. "Maybe one day you'll be able to see me perform on stage. That's when I am truly at my best."

"Perhaps she'll be seeing you perform sooner than you expected," Mr. Tall spoke out over the crowd behind them. "A good idea, Cormac, precisely what I had in mind." He clapped and rubbed his large hands together. "The Cirque has been at rest for far too long. Pitch the tent, feed the wolf man, it is time once again for the Cirque Du Freak to perform!"

He was met with a chorus of cheers and at once the campsite was buzzing with activity. Every single person had a job to do and Darcy helped Evra as he pitched tents, set up chairs, and assembled souvenirs so they would be ready to sell. The main tent was almost twice the size as the one that was set up for her birthday! It towered over everything and glowed with a warm light making it visible from all around the campsite. Paintings of the performers adorned the sides of the tent and she walked around, admiring each work of art. She paused in front of the one that showed an orange-haired man, flute in hand, as a large colorful spider crawled up his pant leg. Half his face was painted in shadow, but the part of his pale face that was illuminated showed a mischievous smile. Mr. Crepsley looked slightly younger in the picture, maybe a little skinnier. There was an air about his image that was attracting, like she could see herself on friendly terms with the man in the picture. She wondered just how long he had been acquainted with the Cirque Du Freak.

An hour before show time and most of the seats were already taken by people who appeared as though out of nowhere. Like Mr. Tall said before, "The Cirque Du Freak always brings a big crowd." She wondered how word was spread after such short notice, and she just accepted it to be another one of the magical aspects of the Cirque that never could be explained.

When she was done with Evra, Darcy also helped Truska by combing her hair and adding an oil to make it shine. Truska was scantily clad in what Darcy could only describe as leather strips, and she laughed, shaking her head, as men paused in their work to ogle the foreign woman as she walked passed.

The darkness of the night made the main tent glow like a beacon. Closer to show time, the campsite grew quiet where every bit of activity revolved around the heart of the Cirque. The air was salty and sweet with treats cooking at the vendors. With a smile, one vender handed her a small bag of caramel popcorn. She thanked them and walked off popping a kernel in her mouth.

Activity buzzed behind the tent as performers did their last minute preparations. Darcy wished Evra good luck, but she didn't get too close since his snake was coiled around his neck. Apart from the earnest chatter, Darcy heard the clear, familiar chimes of a flute. The music came from off to the side, away from the crowd in the shadows. She threw away her empty popcorn bag and walked over. She sat on top of a crate, bringing her knees up to her chin as she watched Mr. Crepsley practicing with Madam Octa who currently danced at his feet. The vampire master was wearing the deep red shirt, vest, and pants which she remembered he wore on her birthday. He nodded his orange head to her when his eyes noticed her watching him. The lyrical music changed and Madam Octa began crawling up his leg. An image of the painting Darcy saw of the young Mr. Crepsley appeared in her mind. He went through most of his routine and Darcy watched silently like a good audience member until Madam Octa was safely back in her cage. Mr. Crepsley brought the little flute away from his pale lips, and the last note rang out until it disappeared into awkward silence between the vampire and his assistant.

Mr. Crepsley looked down at his polished shoes for a moment. He looked up at her finally to speak.

"I must apologize to you, Darcy."

She shook her head, letting her knees fall. "No, it's fine."

"It is not fine," he pressed firmly and his posture straightened. "My actions towards you were unacceptable; I am your master, you are my assistant. I should continue to treat you as such."

Darcy tried to laugh. "What was unacceptable? All you did was heal the cut on my lip, taken it was your fault I was cut in the first place, so you only did what was right. Am I right? You were only trying to heal me, right?"

"Darcy," he began, closing his eyes as though his words brought him pain. "As a creature of the night, I spend much of my time alone, and in the process you could say I lose my view of what exactly what is and is not appropriate-"

"Larten!" Darcy interrupted. That shut him up. His first name, which she was _never_ allowed to use, took him by shock. He opened his mouth to correct her, but she quickly interrupted him. "All you did was heal me, _Mr. Crepsley_. That's all you did, _right_?"

His mouth hung open, stolen of their words, but he slowly closed it while he looked at the imploring look in her eyes. He twirled the little flute in his bony fingers before speaking. After minutes of silence passed, he bowed his head deeply and replied, "Of course."

"Good," Darcy chirped, a smile spreading on her lips.

Mr. Crepsley looked at her smile with peculiarity.

She stood up from the crate and grasped his shoulder, wishing him good luck, before walking away.

"Wait," he said, stopping her.

She twirled around.

He held the flute out to her, beckoning her to take it.

Walking back over, she pressed the instrument into her hand. She gave him a questioning look.

"Let us see how well you still play," he said.

One corner of her lips quirked upward. "You know I could never play as good as you."

He didn't say anything, only waved at her to go on.

Darcy brought the flute to her lips, which was still warm from his touch and recited a familiar song he had taught her on their travels. A pleased look spread on Mr. Crepsley's scarred face at the music she made. He crossed his arms over his chest, bowing his head into shadow as he listened silently.

When she was finished, he said as he raised his head to look at her, "How would you like to perform with me tonight?"

Darcy's face widened in surprise. "Really?"

Mr. Crepsley grinned at the hopeful tone in her voice. "Would you like to?"

"Very much," she replied excitedly. She threw her hands into the air. "That would be awesome to be in the show!"

"Not the whole performance," he said. "You will just be bringing Madam Octa's cage on stage and you will play the flute for me while she spins a web over my mouth."

Darcy loved the Cirque Du Freak with its exotic people and magical mysteries; she had done nothing but chores so far, but now, to have the chance to really be a part of it all was the greatest thing that could ever happen to her.

"The show starts in twenty minutes," Mr. Crepsley said, throwing on his red cape. "Have Madam Octa's cage polished and when you are finished change into your red dress."

Darcy immediately followed orders and when she was ready she slipped into the tent backstage. Evra was ecstatic to find out she was to perform tonight, and they watched eagerly in the wings while the show went on. Looking past Alexander Ribs, Darcy noticed that every seat available was taken. Once again, Mr. Tall succeeded in bringing a full house to the Cirque. She enjoyed watching the show from the sidelines just as much as the first time. For the first time, everything was new, exciting, and magical, but now she was a part of the family, and that made it all the more special.

As she watched the show, her thoughts drifted to Sam. He would _kill_ to be here right now. If only she had given him an invitation to come see the show, but . . . then again, maybe it was a good thing she didn't invite him. Seeing all the performers might only assure him that he wants to join. Then she would _never_ hear the end of it.

After Alexander Ribs came Rhamus Twobellies. Darcy laughed with the crowd as large Rhamus rode around the stage in a tricycle made from parts he had just ate and regurgitated. Then came Truska, beautiful as always with her silky hair which Darcy helped groom. After she danced her way off the stage, beard flowing behind her, there came an intermission for the Little People to sell souvenirs. The audience chatted excitedly discussing the show so far.

Then the lights dimmed to dark green, and Mr. Crepsley strolled onto the stage. Darcy, keeping her face grim and serious, set Madam Octa's cage onto a table and stood off to the side while the vampire master stressed to the crowd how deadly the spider was.

". . . One bite could kill a grown man instantly. . . ."

When he opened the door to her cage, everyone in the front row squirmed with unease. An assistant brought out a living goat. Now _this_ Darcy had never seen before, and she stifled her surprise when Madam Octa sprung onto the animal and bit clean into its neck. A loud, angry gasp was heard somewhere out in the crowd. Darcy glared past the lights and searched for whoever made the sound . . . and there. RV! The fury in his face was unmistakable. How did he get in the show? He had wanted to find reasons to set the police on the Cirque; he must have found any way he could to get in!

When Madam Octa was done with the goat which collapsed to the stage, clearly dead, RV jumped up from his seat in a rage and stormed out of the tent. Darcy's eyes glanced around, searching desperately for Mr. Tall. She needed to somehow signal him that RV was here and needed to be stopped. But she couldn't find Mr. Tall anywhere; he must be waiting backstage. She will just have to tell him once she is finished performing with Mr. Crepsley.

Darcy took a deep breath in attempt to calm herself when Mr. Crepsley handed her the flute. She could feel every pair of eyes turn to her as she began to play. She focused only on sending her thoughts to the spider. She told it to crawl up Mr. Crepsley's leg, to his chest, over his shoulder, and finally onto his face. The spider began to spin her web over his mouth. Her fangs glinted in the lights, long, sharp, and lethal.

Then it occurred to her that she held her vampire master's life in her very hands. One slip of the finger, one spur of a thought, and Madam Octa could sink her fangs into the flesh of Mr. Crepsley's face. She could do it. She almost wanted to. After all, he had taken from her her freedom and childhood. With him dead, she would be avenged and she would no longer be his assistant.

Darcy stared, the palms of her hands going sweaty, while Madam Octa did her stunt. And the spider almost paused over Mr. Crepsley due to Darcy's murderous thoughts. She could do it. . . .

But she didn't. The memory of his kindness towards her was too much to overcome. The sorrow in his eyes whenever she refused to feed was too vivid in her mind. What he has done to her was wrong . . . but he has also tried to make it right. A part of her wanted to believe he was a good man.

She played the rest of the song without another thought, and Madam Octa finished her web. The spider crawled off his face, over his shoulder, to his chest, and down his leg. When she was safely back in her cage, Mr. Crepsley grasped Darcy's hand, and they bowed to the audience. The crowd went wild, roaring with applause. An assistant picked up the dead goat and Darcy led the way off stage.

"It would not have worked," Mr. Crepsley said in her ear after Han Hands raced past them to get on stage.

"What wouldn't have?" Darcy asked.

He smiled coldly at her. "Killing me. Using Madam Octa to kill me would not have worked."

"I . . ." Darcy began, dread filling her insides. She turned away from him to set Madam Octa's cage down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly," he said. "I sensed Madam Octa pause and I knew where your thoughts were. I had suspected as much. I made sure to milk her of her venom before we went on stage."

Darcy froze and she slowly turned around to face him. "You knew," she said, her voice cold. "So you were just . . . _testing_ me?"

"I am fully aware of your desire to kill me, Darcy," he said, stepping close to her. "But I had to make sure. I needed to know, when given the chance, if you would really take the opportunity to kill me."

Darcy scoffed. "When you asked me if I wanted to perform with you I thought you were being nice. I thought, maybe, you actually wanted me to be a part of something. Like we were equals, not master and assistant." She sneered at him. "But I was wrong." He was just taking advantage of her again. And then the thoughts returned, no matter how much she wished to pushed them into the back of her mind and pretend they didn't matter: She thought of his cold, hard lips on hers, pressing. His tongue running over her severed lip.

Her stomach rolled.

"I hate you," she cried, moving away from him. "You don't know anything about how I feel. If I ever get the chance again I _will_ kill you, I swear." With angry tears streaming down her face, she stormed off without another word, leaving the tent even before the show was over. She was too upset to stay and watch Cormac Limbs, like she had wanted. But now she just wanted to be away from the vampire master as quick as possible.

But even while she escaped into the coolness of the night, she couldn't stop the nagging feeling that what Mr. Crepsley said made sense. That, if she were him, she would have done exactly the same thing.


	29. The Vampire's Assistant: Chapter Twelve

Darcy kicked a barrel as she strode quickly away from the glowing Cirque tent. But the fabric on her shoe was a bit thin, so she stubbed her toe and pain shot up her foot. She muttered angrily, bending over to massage the wound.

_What did that old bat know anyway_, she thought as she plopped herself down in the grass that had grown cool in the evening. Her red dress billowed about her in a circle. _If he knew she wanted to kill him then why did he even bother testing her? Why was it so important to him to have her trust? Would she ever feel differently about him, the old bat, the vampire master? Why her? Why? Why? W-_

Amid her teenage brooding, Darcy's eyes caught a shadow passing from one tent to another not twenty feet from her. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Everyone associated with the Cirque was over at the main tent either backstage, performing, monitoring audience members, or selling food, drink, and merchandise. The only person the shadow could belong to was an audience member. Remembering a certain audience member rushing from the tent earlier, she feared just who the shadow may belong to. Curious and feeling obligated to investigate, Darcy stood up from the ground; she shirked against a tent wall and peered around the corner where the shadow disappeared. She caught a sandaled foot just as it moved behind another tent. As she followed, sticking close to the shadows, she found herself going around the Cirque tent where she and whoever the shadow belonged to were nearer to the backstage entrance. She heard a heavy jangling, like rusty chains being shaken, and then a dull clicking of metal. She peered around the edge of a van, one eye at a time, and saw the owner of the shadow. It was broad shouldered, but skinny; obviously a man. She saw the familiar mangy hair first, for he was facing away from her. And in front of him was the wolf man's cage.

The wolf man paced very slowly in his small enclosure and his black eyes were focused intensely on the mangy man, like a beast observing its prey. Something in the man's hands was making the metallic clicking sound. There was a _click, click, click, clank!_ He swore under his breath and began working more furiously. Darcy jumped out of her hiding spot, taking quick steps up to the intruder.

"Hey!"

RV spun around, eyes as round as plates, and in his hands were large pliers. Darcy noticed the chains keeping the wolf man's cage locked were jagged with deep slices from RV's handiwork.

Her eyes widened and anger tore through her. "W-what are you _doing_?"

"I've had enough of this place, man," RV snarled from behind his filthy beard. "I've seen what I've needed to see. That goat, that poor defenseless goat killed for people's entertainment, that sheep you stole earlier, this creature right here: you treat them like emotionless beasts!" He shook his mangy head of hair. "You're all monsters, man, the whole lot of you." RV looked back down at the chains and fed one blade of the pliers through a loop. He started working at it again as he spoke bitterly. "I've called the police. They'll be here first thing in the morning to shut this hell heap down."

"You've done _what_?" Darcy nearly screamed. She took a tentative step towards him. "No, RV, stop!"

There was a satisfying _clang_ from the chains before he rounded on her.

"Or what?" He spat. "You'll threaten to kill me again? You're just a kid, some poor abused rotten kid! You can't do anything to me, man, you should be thanking me! You can finally escape from this filthy, greedy, corrupt Circus freak sh-"

His voice was cut short by a gut-wrenching tearing and crunching sound. RV's mouth opened in a silent scream, and Darcy gasped when he brought his arms forward, away from the cage, and presented to her two bloody stumps. He looked down with part fear and confusion written in his face, and stumbled away from the wolf man whom Darcy could see had one of RV's hands in his mouth. The fingers were still twitching and stuck out from between his enormous teeth. Within seconds it was gone, sliding down the wolf man's gullet.

"Wha . . ." RV gasped, looking at the stumps as they squirt out streams of crimson blood. "W-where are my hands?" His wide eyes looked up at Darcy as though hoping she could answer him. His face skewed into ugly insanity. "_Where are my hands?_" His high cries sent chills through Darcy.

She was rooted to the spot as RV sprinted past her, screaming at his bloody stumps. She gasped when a steam of his blood squirted into her face and went all over her dress. Her hands immediately went to her face, wiping away the delicious smelling blood from her eyes and cheeks. She scrubbed furiously with the back of her hand, afraid the smell would drive her to uncontrollable hunger. A low growl made her freeze. Darcy brought her hands down from her face very slowly. In front of her the wolf man stood, _outside his cage_, snout high as he sniffed the air. She withheld a whimper as the beast's black gaze locked onto her. The smell of the blood on her no doubt caught his attention. He bent over, ready to jump at her, and she took a couple faltering steps away. RV's blood dripped from his mouth which widened into a beastly grin.

He sprung into the air, flying as high as the tents. Darcy's arms went over her head as she expected him to pounce right on top of her. But instead, he leapt cleanly over her and landed on the ground a couple yards from where she stood. For a flicker of a moment, relief washed over her, but then she looked beyond the wolf man and dread weighed her down again: between a couple tents on the edge of the forest stood a small and terrified Sam Grest. His huge fearful eyes were locked on the wolf man who was currently sprinting in his exact direction. He dropped a bag he had strung over his shoulder and turned a one-eighty into the direction of the forest. The wolf man followed the little boy with determined leaps.

"SAM!" Darcy screamed and without another thought, she shook the paralysis from her legs and sprinted after the pair. The night had become unusually bright by the light of the full moon, helping Darcy see her way easily through the forest. She followed the sounds of branches and twigs snapping until eventually the sounds faded. But still she ran, pumping her arms and legs as fast as her half vampire body would allow. There was a breach in the trees and Darcy tumbled out into a familiar opening. In the moonlight she saw the tracks and carriages of the abandoned railroad. The old guardhouse looked eerie at night with the full moon shining largely beyond its decrepit roof. She swore under her breath when she saw that there was no wolf man or Sam visible around the railroad. What if Sam had taken a sharp turn and headed in a completely different direction? That means she has left her best friend to fight the beast alone.

_This is all my fault_, she cried in her head. She spun around on the spot to try to catch some evidence of where Sam might have headed. Sam had told her he was going to do anything to get into the Cirque, even if that meant sneaking in. She could have done something to stop him, _protect_ him.

Darcy paced the length of the railroad tracks, heading in the direction she knew Sam's house was. But when she passed one of the train carriages, hands reached out from the darkness and grabbed her. She screamed as she was brought into the shadows of the compartment.

"_Shhhhh_!"

"Sam!" Darcy wrapped her arms around her friend's little body and crushed him to her chest. "You're alive!"

"Of course I am," he said in the fabric of her dress. He bent his head away and hissed, "But we won't be alive for long unless you shut up!"

"Sorry," she whispered, releasing him from her tight grasp. He was trembling and she grasped his hand in comfort. She saw the whites of his eyes as he peered out of the large door, looking around the railroad station for any beastly shadows.

"Sam," she whispered, he tore his eyes away and looked at her. "I know you were trying to sneak into the Cirque."

He glanced down at her hand on his. "Yeah, and I almost got away with it, too." He looked up at her with sincerity in his big eyes. "It's where I belong, Darcy. I know it!"

"But I told you to never come back," she hissed.

He waved her words away. "You didn't scare me for a minute. I knew you were just trying to keep me away from there. You wouldn't have really hurt me, would you?" He asked, "Would you, Darcy?"

She smiled sadly. "Of course not, Sam. I would never hurt you."

He laughed lightly and Darcy felt relieved to see him smile, like everything was going to be okay.

"Aw, I knew it. Don't worry, Darcy, I'll get your boss to let me into the Cirque, even if it kills m-"

Two clawed hands reached up from the side of the compartment and grabbed the closest thing – Sam – and curled its claws into the fabric of his shirt. The little boy was whipped from the train carriage with the blink of an eye. Darcy leapt from the compartment with a scream and jumped onto the wolf man's back; she dug her hands into the dirty, greasy fur at his neck and squeezed. The wolf man let out a howl, half human, half beast, and released Sam in order to claw at her. She ducked her head to avoid a swipe from his large hand, but as she prepared to get a better grip on the wolf man's neck, his other hand crashed down on her like a house of bricks and she collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Darcy woke to crunching sounds to the side of her. She turned her groggy head slowly and saw the wolf man sitting on his haunches on the ground. The crunching noise was coming from him, and when she looked closer, she saw the little body of her best friend lying limp before him.

A cry of sorrow escaped her lips and tears welled up in her eyes. The wolf man hardly acknowledged her sounds; he merely glanced at her over his shoulder, and then went back to his meal as if to say, "Oh well, you're next."

Darcy's hand brushed a large rock on the ground and she quickly took it up. From where she lay, she wound back her arm and threw the rock square at the back of the wolf man's head. The beast rounded on her with a snarl. Darcy sneered at him in return; she just wanted to get her hands on him, to tear him to bits. But she was foolish, she was weak from the lack of blood, how was _she_ going to fight the beast? She flexed her muscles, preparing herself to fight as the wolf man bent over and leapt. He landed on her with a roar; his putrid breath and filthy odor filled her nose. Something dripped from his mouth onto her cheek; whether it was just saliva or worse, she wasn't sure. He opened his huge jaws, leering down on her as if to swallow her whole.

A shadow dove out of nowhere and impacted with the wolf man's side. The wolf man called out as he was tackled to the ground. Darcy caught a familiar flash of orange hair as the shadow curled its pale hands around the wolf man's jaws and twisted. There was a sickening snap and the wolf man fell down motionless. Mr. Crepsley glared down at the beast a moment longer as though daring the unconscious creature to move. When it didn't, he rounded on Darcy and was instantly at her side. He grasped her elbows and helped her to stand.

"Are you okay?" He asked, taking her face in his hands and gently turning it from side to side, inspecting for any damage.

"I'm alive," she mumbled, rubbing the side of her head where the wolf man had hit her. Then she dropped her hand and looked up into Mr. Crepsley's face. "I'm alive," she said again. They stared at each other for a moment, and then suddenly she wrapped her arms around the vampire's neck. She brought him into a furious hug.

"I'm alive, you saved me," she said in his ear. He hugged her back and she felt like laughing as she said to him, "Thank you, Crepsley. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank-" she stopped and pulled away from him. "Sam," she gasped. Darcy twirled around, and seeing her friend, she ran over to him.

"Oh, Sam," she sobbed, dropping to the ground next to his limp body. She could hardly stand the sight of him. His face was normal, a little scratched up, but lower down, in his middle, there was nothing but a mass of insides and blood. She had never smelled anything so horrible and so enticing at the same time. She bent over his face and laid her ear to his gapping mouth. Pause . . . then little heart beats, faint and growing fainter. His breath hardly came at all, his lungs were completely destroyed.

"He's still alive," she said with a dash of hope in her voice.

"He does not have much time left," Mr. Crepsley said from behind her.

Darcy sighed heavily, picking up Sam's head and laying it in her lap. "I know," she moaned.

"But there is enough time," he continued.

Darcy cast her eyes up to the vampire, her heart jumped up to her throat. "You mean we can still save him?"

Mr. Crepsley's features darkened and the shadows made his scars deeper, more menacing. "In a way, yes," he said slowly. He took a step closer and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You can save a part of him, but it would not be easy for you."

Darcy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You need to feed from him, Darcy."

Her hopes were dashed and she looked at the vampire with horror. "How . . ." she croaked, anger boiled up inside her, and she twisted out of his grasp. "_How dare you?_ How can you ask me to do that? _Now?_"

"This is the perfect moment to do it, Darcy."

"Please, anybody but him. He's dying!"

"Exactly," he said.

"I'd kill him," she cried, looking down at Sam. She sniffed, "He's my best friend."

"Remember what I said a while ago? If you draw enough blood from a victim, you retain their memories, parts of their personality. He is going to die anyway, but this way his spirit will always live on, in you. You must do it, Darcy, for both of your sakes."

Darcy shook her head sadly, sobbing into Sam's hair. Her tears fell onto his forehead like droplets of rain.

Mr. Crepsley straightened up. "It is your choice. He dies, you die. Or you feed and you both live, it is that simple."

She didn't watch him leave, but listened as his footsteps slowly faded away. She was alone.

There could be only seconds left until Sam's heart stopped beating.

Darcy lifted his head from her lap as though it weighed a hundred pounds. But instead of setting him down on the ground, she tilted his head to the side, revealing his neck to her. She sniffled and pressed her lips to a thick vein in the side of his neck. Taking a deep breath, she bared her teeth, and in one quick motion sunk them into him. His skin tore like tissue paper and warm blood flowed out, filling her mouth instantly. She gagged after the first salty swallow, but forced herself to go on. Instinct and hunger took over, and she closed her eyes in contentment. With each swallow, her half vampire abilities were replenished and her strength was returned. She drew from him, long after his heart had stopped completely, until his body was dry of all its life blood.

When Darcy was finished, she set him down lightly on the ground. She looked down at Sam with renewed eyesight. He was nothing now but a corpse. She had killed him. Her face twisted with anguish and a scream tore past her lips. She screamed out into the night until her lungs burned.

Darcy felt as though that little bit of humanity that she had clung onto all this time had finally slipped from her.

She felt stronger now, and she hated it. Her best friend was dead, and it was all her fault. She was alone. No one could possibly understand the loneliness that she felt in that instant. It was she, the monster, against the world.

After her throat had gone too sore to utter another cry, she slumped to the ground next to the dead body and looked down at her red dress that was covered in blood that didn't belong to her. She didn't remember when Mr. Crepsley had returned, she just remembered that suddenly he was at her side, and his arm was around her, helping her up.

When he didn't speak, she said quietly, "I'm a true vampire's assistant now, aren't I?"

He hesitated. "Yes," came his reply.

"You must be very proud," she said harshly.

"I am ashamed."

She cast her eyes up at him and was pleased to see he looked as miserable as she felt. But then an emotion snaked in her belly that made her look upon her vampire master with pity. His hand was on her shoulder, his thumb running over her skin in a comforting motion, and she didn't pull away. He gave her another moment of silence, then grasped her closer to him and guided her away from the body.

Darcy saw they weren't alone. Mr. Tall had arrived with several Little People. With a nod from the Cirque owner, half of them picked up the unconscious wolf man and carried him away.

Mr. Tall sighed at the sight of little Sam Grest dead on the ground. "The young one is dead, but Mistress Darcy and the wolf man live." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Thank goodness for small mercies." He snapped his fingers and the other half of the Little People walked over to Sam's body.

"What are they going to do with him?" Darcy asked.

Mr. Tall cast his black eyes on her. Hardly moving his lips, he said, "I am not one to make such a waste." When she frowned at him, he clarified, "The corpse could feed every Little Person at the Cirque for a whole day."

"_You're going to feed him to those things?_" Darcy cried in outrage.

"I don't see what else we could do with the corpse," Mr. Tall said simply.

"That corpse has a name," Darcy shouted angrily. "Sam was my best friend and I won't let him be somebody's meal. Please, I want to bury him." She said to Mr. Crepsley, "Please, help me. I need to do this."

Mr. Crepsley bowed his head and said with a heavy sigh, "Hibernius?"

Mr. Tall growled to himself and waved sharply to the Little People to leave. "Fine," he said, "but the Little People will not be pleased." He turned on his heel with the balance of an acrobat and strode away into the forest.

Darcy sighed with relief. "Thank you," she said. She and Mr. Crepsley went over to the body. Beside him they began digging his grave. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the Little People approach. She recognized it was the one with the bad leg; Lefty, she called him.

"Go away," she growled at him. "You're not eating one bit of my friend."

But the Little Person ignored her and made his place beside them by the hole. He dug his hands into the dirt and shoveled out a handful.

"Do not worry," Mr. Crepsley said with a sad smile. "He means to help us."

She watched the Little Person a moment as he worked, then nodded and went back to digging.

Thanks to her renewed strength, the three of them together dug the grave quickly. Before Mr. Crepsley set Sam Grest into the ground, Darcy kissed the boy's forehead and whispered a goodbye. They covered him with earth until there was only a small mound over the ground. There was no tombstone, no marker to let anyone know of the smart, sprightly, charismatic little boy that once played in these woods that now lay dead beneath the earth. Now there was only the memory. Darcy had had fun at this abandoned railroad station, she had good memories. But now she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to bring herself to come back to this place. After all, this was the place where she lost the last traces of her humanity. She would somehow find a way to go on with her life, but not Sam. Sam would forever remain here.

The Little Person left, but Mr. Crepsley stayed. He stood behind her a ways, giving her room to grieve for her friend on her own. When her instincts told her there were a couple hours before sunrise, she turned to Mr. Crepsley and told him she was ready to go back.

The Cirque was in an upheaval when they returned. Whether or not Mr. Tall knew that the police would be here in the morning, she wasn't sure. But by the looks of things, he intended to move the Cirque out, tonight. Mr. Crepsley left to go ready his van for departure, and Darcy was found by Evra soon after. In his hands he held a sac and handed it over to her.

"I heard about everything," he said gently. Darcy accepted the sac, looking down at it with tears in her eyes. "I thought you might want this."

She traced the initials S.G. that were sewn on with thick yarn. "Sam Grest," she whispered, and burst into tears. She laid her head thankfully on Evra's shoulder when he draped a scaly arm around her in comfort.

"Mr. Crepsley told me you drank Sam's blood," Evra said, "to keep his spirit alive."

She sniffed in reply.

"I know how hard it must have been for you, but I hope you understand that you did this out of good, not evil. You did this for Sam, so you shouldn't feel bad for drinking from him."

She didn't say anything, but nodded, wishing with all her heart she could believe him.

Darcy trudged around as though in a dream as she helped the Cirque Du Freak tear down the campsite. She accepted everyone's sincere apologizes, but none of their words were enough to make her forget. She volunteered for the hardest jobs in attempt to get her mind off the night's events. It helped a little, but then she would remember the lifeless look in Sam's eyes and she would set herself harder at work, sobbing as she went. The others must have noticed her pitiful desperation, because Mr. Crepsley was summoned and he swept her away to rest in his van.

As she lay curled against the wood of the coffin, she thought about RV. Where was he now? Has he bled to death? Was he dead somewhere in the forest? Maybe he found a doctor in time to help him. Whatever it was, she didn't care. He may have been trying to set the wolf man free for the better, but it was because of him that Sam was dead. Therefore, she had no place for him in her heart to care.

What about her future? She was a true vampire's assistant now. She was more bound to Mr. Crepsley than she ever was before. Wherever he went, she must go as well. Whether she liked it or not. Somehow, in the very back of her mind, she was relieved that she would be needed. It made her feel . . . less alone.

Mr. Crepsley joined her in the van after the Cirque had set out on their way. They rolled and bounced slightly as it followed the long line of caravans. Darcy watched him as he lifted the lid to the coffin and stepped in. He paused before closing the lid on himself. He looked down at her lying beside the coffin with Sam Grest's sac clutched in her arms. He reached a finger down and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Is there anything you need?" He asked; his voice was unusually delicate.

Darcy shook her head. "No." But as the lid closed, something did pop into her mind, so suddenly. The thought made her sit up straight. She ran her tongue over her teeth; there was still a trace of Sam's blood, but that wasn't what she was craving. It was something else entirely, something she had never craved before in her life. Hungrily, she opened Sam's sac and rummaged through it until she grabbed what she had expected: a jar of pickled onions. She screwed open the top and the deliciously bitter smell wafted to her nose, making her mouth water. She sighed with the tinniest smile playing at her lips.

Darcy rested against her vampire's coffin and popped a pickled onion into her mouth.

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**


	30. Tunnels of Blood: Chapter One

**Book 3**

**_CIRQUE DU FREAK_**

**THE SAGA OF DARCY SHANE**

**TUNNELS OF BLOOD**

* * *

Darcy Shane was a true creature of the night now.

Not that she was _proud_ of it or anything, but things have certainly become easier since she took her first sip of human blood. She no longer felt tired and weak all the time. With her vampire abilities strengthened by human blood, she could do things now she never could before. During the night, she could see a mouse move from bush to bush fifty yards away. She could smell bacon being cooked over a campfire from all the way across the Cirque Du Freak camp. She now experienced the world around her in a way that was completely new.

Darcy and her vampire master, Mr. Crepsley, spent hours of every day together. He taught her everything he knew, from vampire myths to how much blood can be taken from a human without killing them. He taught her how to hunt; she was still repulsed after her first couple times of drinking from their victims. It felt wrong to be stealing somebody's life blood like a parasite only to disappear into the night like ghosts. But Mr. Crepsley assured her it was how they had to live. There was no other way around it.

Mr. Crepsley was still the tough, brusque, and serious old vampire he ever was. But Darcy could tell he was starting to grow on her. He spent so much time teaching her that she couldn't imagine what he did in his time before they met. Practicing with Madam Octa, maybe, or chatting with others around the Cirque Du Freak. But Mr. Crepsley didn't really come off as a social butterfly to her. Sometimes she found herself imagining that her existence in his life was somehow giving him meaning. It was a self-centered way of looking at it, but it certainly made her feel a little better.

One thing that never got better was the homesickness. The ache she felt for her parents, her sister, and her home didn't fade with time like she thought it would. What was worse, she missed Steve Leonard. Her best friend, rough and hot-tempered as he was, was one of the most important things about her past. He gave her a lot of good memories: hanging out at each other's houses, swimming at the pool during the summer, always sticking up for her at school. Steve protected her when no one else did. Darcy only hoped he rid himself of the idea to become a vampire hunter. Perhaps a couple years to mature helped him realize the whole vampire thing was too childish to endeavor. While he was living a normal life, she, now sixteen years old, was living the life he had always wanted to live.

She would have been all too happy to trade places with him right now.

But as Mr. Crepsley has told her a hundred times: they must deal with the hand they are dealt and make the most of it.

Funny, the vampire master was always giving her little tidbits of advice like that. He was always trying to make the life he forcibly thrust upon her just a little bit easier.

And things were getting easier.

Just not as quickly as she would have liked.

* * *

Darcy sat on her haunches behind a pile of trash. Her sharp half-vampire eyes stalked a black cat that was sifting through the rubbish. She waited, frozen to the spot, for the opportune moment to strike. The black cat was skinny with its ribs protruding from its sides, but there was some meat on its bones. It'll do. The cat turned its back on Darcy, lowering its head into an empty box of Chinese food. Darcy narrowed her eyes and a low hiss expelled from between her teeth. Now was her chance. She tensed her muscles and prepared to spring on her prey.

Evra Van walked over. He strode up to the black cat, picked it up by the scruff of the neck, broke it with a snap, and tossed it into his gunny sack.

"Hey!" Darcy shouted and jumped up from her hiding spot. "That one was gonna be mine!"

Her snake friend shrugged. "You were taking too long."

She ran up to him and jumped on his back, playfully ruffling his green hair. "That's cheating! You owe me one."

"I've already got you beat by two cats, one possum, and three rats," Evra yelled, dropping his sack to try to throw her off.

The two friends teased their way back to the Cirque Du Freak where they dumped their findings into the Little People's feeding trough.

"How's that for you," Darcy asked one Little Person called Lefty. Since all the Little People looked similar in their purple robes, it was difficult telling them apart. But unlike the others, Lefty had a bad left leg that caused him to limp when he walked.

Lefty gave her thumbs up from beneath his purple sleeves and joined the others in stuffing their faces with the dead animals. The putrid smell of rotting flesh wafted up from the area, polluting the air.

Evra shivered beside her. "You know I don't like sticking around while they feed. You've heard the stories of how they'll eat anything, right? Even people."

"No one's been able to prove that," Darcy said, tossing her gunny sack aside and walking away from the Little People's area.

Evra looked over the same moment two Little People grabbed each end of a rat and tore it in two as though it were made of paper. He gulped. "You know? I think I'm good without the proof." He ran after her and they went off around the campsite.

The Cirque Du Freak had just arrived at their new venue: a spacious field near an abandoned mill yard. It was close to a town, but not near enough to interest the police. The Cirque was never well-liked by the authorities. Like what happened with RV, the Cirque was claimed to be a cruel freak show, forcing it to pack up and move before the police arrived.

Darcy officially considered the Cirque Du Freak her home. She considered each and every one of the circus inhabitants a part of her new family. Their warm and constant companionship made her transition from human to _not-so_-human much easier.

She still did daily chores with Evra: finding food for the mysterious Little People, cooking, and cleaning. But now that she and Mr. Crepsley were on slightly better terms, the vampire master taught her more songs on the flute and sometimes she performed in the Cirque shows all by herself. Before she became a half-vampire, she would've never gone on stage in front of the huge crowds. But now, when she had so much less to lose, she felt like she was meant for the performing life. And it was thanks to Mr. Crepsley; he was confident she had the guts to do it.

After her horrible encounter with RV and little Sam Grest, Darcy decided to move her sleeping cot from Truska's tent into Mr. Crepsley's van. She made a little place for herself right next to his coffin. She was there when he went to sleep and she was there when he woke, _grumpy at usual_. Being close to him allowed her to be there whenever he needed her. She did many of the mundane chores like doing their laundry and feeding Madam Octa, but Darcy also knew that being around him more might give her a chance to get to know him on a personal level.

When they first arrived at the Cirque Du Freak, she had wanted nothing more than to avoid the vampire master. But she understood that plan was impossible when she realized that avoiding him wasn't going to do either of them any good. Yeah, he was grumpy and hot-tempered, but she wasn't the embodiment of perfection either.

The day she decided to move into his van, something changed between the two of them. There grew a sort of unspoken respect and acceptance.

Did she like Mr. Crepsley? . . . She could.

Did she _trust_ him? . . . She knew she should.

The orange-haired vampire was still very much a mystery. He had many talents that fascinated Darcy. One of which was the ability to movie objects with just a snap of the fingers. She wasn't sure if all vampires could do it, but she definitely wanted to try.

After chores that day, Evra went back to his tent to tend to his performing snake and Darcy went off by herself with a crucifix in hand. Unlike the famous vampire myths she had read in her monster books, crucifixes had no harmful effect on vampires.

She had found the little charm necklace while she was sifting through garbage one day for the Little People. It was silver and glinted prettily in the sunshine. She had immediately wanted to pick it up, rub it clean, and put it on. But at the time she wasn't exactly sure whether it was dangerous, and she had decided to leave it to ask Mr. Crepsley later if it was okay to touch. To her bitter annoyance, the vampire master only roared with laughter. And in the dead of night, she had stomped back to the garbage site to salvage it.

As the sun set, Darcy clutched the crucifix necklace in her hand and found someplace to be alone. One of the rundown mills would do. It was dank and drafty inside; a couple of the wooden boards were missing off the wall, but it was isolated from the Cirque where she wouldn't be distracted. She found an old crate on the ground and set the silver crucifix necklace down on it. Taking a couple steps away, she faced the charm and glared down at it with focus. She lifted her hand, readying her thumb and middle finger, and imagined unlocking the space between her and the object. When she was ready, she snapped, willing the crucifix into her hand.

It was still there. On the crate. A couple feet away. _Not_ in her hand.

It was only her first try, so she concentrated harder on her next attempt, willing with every ounce for the crucifix necklace to appear in her hand. She was a new vampire. Hell, she was only half, but there was still the possibility that she had the ability.

Licking her lips with concentration, she snapped again . . . to no avail. She gritted her teeth, snapping again and again, stepping closer and closer to the object. When her snapping hand was an inch from the crucifix, she pushed it with her finger, as though to make sure it hadn't miraculously glued itself to the crate.

"Move," she growled between her teeth.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Darcy spun around to see Mr. Crepsley leaning in the doorway to the mill. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit with a coat that reached his ankles. Outside, everything was covered in darkness. She had lost track of time. When her tummy grumbled, she knew it was time for dinner. He must have come looking for her to make sure she got something to eat.

"How do you do that?" she asked, pointing to the necklace on the crate and snapping. "How can you move things with just a snap?"

There was amusement in his voice when he spoke. "How do you think?"

"Is it magic?" she asked with a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Would you like to know how I do it?"

"I'd like you to teach me."

He shrugged and smiled, making the scar on the side of his face crinkle. "Let me show you first." He swept his long black coat away from his body and theatrically lifted a hand, thumb and middle finger together. With a snap, the crucifix was in his hand.

Darcy cracked a smile. "How?"

"I will do it again," he said while placing the necklace back on the crate. Before walking back to the door, he said to her, "Watch closely."

She stared hard at Mr. Crepsley. She watched as he moved his coat away from his legs and lifted a hand. He snapped and there was something she hadn't noticed before: a quick black and orange blur between the necklace and the door where he stood. After he snapped, the blur was gone and the crucifix necklace was in his pale hand. Her face widened in realization.

"It's you," she laughed, "the object's not moving, _you're_ moving!" Then she frowned. "But why do you snap?"

"Old habits die hard," he replied with a small shrug. "In my youth, I learned how to perform illusions. Snapping takes your attention off my other movements, allowing me to do the rest unnoticed."

"So it's not magic," Darcy said with slight disappointment. "It's just an illusion."

"I am afraid so."

She was quiet a moment, and then said brightly, "Can you teach me?"

He laughed and walked over to her. While slipping the necklace over her head, he promised, "When you are a full vampire, you will be quick enough. Then I will teach you."

"How long will it take me to become a full vampire?"

"It differs with each vampire. For you it could be one year or a decade in the future."

"How do you know we'll still even be together in a decade?"

He went quiet at this, moving the clasp of the necklace under her long brown hair. His fingers brushed her neck as he pulled away. "I do not know."

Darcy sighed grumpily. "Sometimes it sucks being just a half-vampire. I can't do anything cool."

"Not burning to death in the sun is not _cool_ enough for you?"

She laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess that's kind of cool."

"Do not be in too much of a hurry to grow old, Darcy Shane."

"What does it matter?" She went around him to leave the old mill and shouted as she stepped outside, "I'm gonna live to be hundreds of years old!"

"We'll see about that," an unfamiliar voice growled from the darkness. Hands suddenly grabbed her from the shadows and something cold and sharp pressed against her neck. It glinted silver in the moonlight, and Darcy gasped when she saw it was a _very_ sharp knife. Her attacker breathed heavily in her ear.

Mr. Crepsley stepped up to the doorway of the mill.

"Run!" she screamed. Fear froze her body solid.

But the attacker roared with laughter in her ears, making them ring. "That's right, Larten. Run away, I'm sure she can take me on!"

Darcy stared as a smile cracked across Mr. Crepsley's lips. "Took you long enough to show up," he said tersely.

The knife left her neck. Darcy jumped away, moving closer to Mr. Crepsley. Her attacker was a stout man, short but strong, wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. She guessed him to be Mr. Crepsley's age. His face was covered in scars but looked surprisingly friendly. She still looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

The stranger held his arms out questioningly with blades in each hand. "Now, what's that supposed to mean, Larten?"

Mr. Crepsley laughed louder this time, shaking his head. "Oh, Gavner. I could hear your heavy breathing all the way in the forest while you watched and waited. I wondered how long it would take you to finally make your appearance."

"_What_?" the man called Gavner barked in outrage while he pocketed his knives. "You couldn't have possibly heard me!"

"No one in the world," Mr. Crepsley asserted, "breathes as heavily as you do. You could not sneak up on a group of sleeping drunken vampaneze with their ears plugged."

Gavner glowered at the bruising of his ego, but wagged a finger at her vampire master. "I'll get you one of these days, Larten Crepsley. You'll see."

"The only way you could ever get me, Gavner Purl," Mr. Crepsley sighed, "is if I let you."

"What about you," Gavner nodded to Darcy. "You didn't hear me, did you?"

"Nope," she chirped shyly, still wondering if she should keep alarmed.

"Ha!" Gavner called out triumphantly. "See, there, I'm still good for something."

"Yes, well," Mr. Crepsley tilted his head, "next time we need someone to sneak up on a crowd of tittering teenage girls, we will let you know."

Gavner chuckled good-naturedly, running a heavily scarred hand through his short brown hair. He had a large smile which revealed a set of glittering yellow teeth.

"Darcy?"

Mr. Crepsley's head of orange hair spun around until it settled on her. She had moved until she was standing slightly behind him. She felt a little calmer now that she saw they weren't in any immediate danger, but her knees still wobbled like rubber. Looking down at her, Mr. Crepsley clicked his tongue.

"Now see what you have done, Gavner. You have frightened my companion."

"And what a pretty companion she is, too," Gavner said as he held a hand out to her.

Mr. Crepsley snaked an arm back, placing a hand on her shoulder, and gently pushed her forward. "It is alright."

Darcy swallowed back her shyness and accepted Gavner's hand, which he shook firmly. With a glance, she spotted the infamous ten little scars at the end of his fingertips. They were the same scars Darcy and Mr. Crepsley shared, revealing their vampire heritage. He was like them.

"Darcy, this is an old friend of mine, Gavner Purl," Mr. Crepsley presented. "Gavner, this is my companion and assistant, Darcy Shane."

"An assistant!" Gavner bellowed, looking up at the vampire master with surprise. "I never thought I'd see the day when you acquired an assistant. I know how much you like your solitude." He grinned down at Darcy and spoke to her as though they were trading secrets, "Trust me. I know more than most. One time I had to share a coffin with the grumpy old bat for four months."

Darcy snorted, "You two shared a coffin?" She tried to imagine two grown men fitting inside Mr. Crepsley's little casket in the caravan. The thought of it made her giggle.

"We had to," Mr. Crepsley stressed. "We were being hunted and it was pertinent we stayed together at all times."

"Hunted?" Darcy asked in wonder. "Hunted by who? Why?"

Gavner opened his mouth to reply, but Mr. Crepsley quickly cut him off.

"Never you mind." Ignoring the imploring look on Darcy's face, he went on, "What I would like to know is why it has taken my good friend seventeen years to suddenly visit me."

Gavner howled, "Seventeen years! Has it really been that long?"

"It will be next February."

Gavner whistled. "Seventeen years is longer than I thought. And you're still as bitter as ever, I think." Then he narrowed his eyes. "But there is something different about you . . . I can't quite pin-point it."

"Yes, well, you are here now. Let us get this over with." Mr. Crepsley beckoned a hand towards the Cirque camp. "Shall we go to my tent? I am sure the Vampire Generals have given you much to discuss with me in preparation for the trial."

Gavner's face skewed with confusion. "Trial?"

"Yes, the trial in which I will need to defend myself. It is alright, Gavner. I have been expecting this. I am fully prepared to speak for myself and the girl."

"The . . . what about the girl? What are you getting at, Larten?" Gavner looked Darcy up and down. His sharp eyes settled on her hands where he saw the ten little vampire scars. He gasped, stepping away in shock. "She . . . the girl is a vampire!"

"Half," Mr. Crepsley corrected as he narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Surely you knew what she was, that I had changed her. That is why you are here, is it not?"

"No!" Gavner recoiled. "I-I had no idea of this! Larten," he growled, "you _changed_ her. But she-she's just a girl! What were you thinking? _Why_ would you do this?"

"The reason as to 'why' is a long a story." Mr. Crepsley added in a murmur, "Part of which I could hardly explain myself." He shook his head slightly and said in a louder tone, "But no matter. What is done is done."

Gavner sputtered. "Well, this changes everything. I know it's common to make assistants into half-vampires, but a _young girl_?"

"Relax, my friend," Mr. Crepsley said calmly. "Let me explain to you as best I can. Judge me and my actions for yourself. Then you may return to the other Vampire Generals and pass verdict."

"_Me_ judge you?"

"You are well respected among the clan. They would trust your opinion."

Darcy's eyes shot back and forth between the two while they debated. Vampire Generals? Clan? Trial? She had no idea what was going on, but Gavner's sudden hostility was putting her on edge.

"You were once a respected member of the clan, as well, Larten." Gavner sputtered. "You were one of the best Vampire Generals I knew-"

"You know I have put that part of my life behind me."

"But it will always be a part of you. _This_," Gavner shook his head, staring down at Darcy, "this is not something the clan with accept upon my opinion alone."

"Then why have you come," Mr. Crepsley inquired, "if not to question me about the girl?

Gavner's shoulders went up to his ears as he held out his hands. "Is it so hard to believe I've come to discuss old times?"

A corner of Mr. Crepsley's lips quirked upward. "After seventeen years? I think not."

Gavner dropped his hands and stepped forward, lowering his voice. "Alright. So I'm not here to discuss old times. But there is something that has come to attention I think you ought to know." He paused, scratching a scar along his chin.

"Yes, Gavner?" Mr. Crepsley pressed.

"This something is a bit of a . . . personal matter." Gavner explained, glancing down at Darcy by Mr. Crepsley's side. "You seemed hesitant for her to know about why we were hunted all those years ago. I wonder . . . if you would mind her knowing about this matter as well."

Mr. Crepsley's eyes narrowed questioningly. When Gavner nodded, her vampire master tilted his head towards her, but didn't meet her fervent gaze. "Darcy, please go tell Mr. Tall I will be unable to perform tonight. Gavner and I shall retire early. Madam Octa's cage and the flute are already waiting by the show tent. I ask you to take my place tonight, as I know you like to."

"But," Darcy sputtered, "but Mr. Crepsley, what's going on? Are we in trouble?"

"Please, Darcy," the vampire master said firmly. He added while she turned to leave, "And I better not catch you eavesdropping. You know how I dislike it when you do that."

She muttered somberly in agreement as she reluctantly sulked away from the two vampires. There was a pause of silence as she felt their eyes on her back.

Behind her she could hear Gavner say pitifully, "Poor girl, she deserves some answers."

"And she will get them," Mr. Crepsley said, then added with a heavy sigh, "whether I will it or not."


	31. Tunnels of Blood: Chapter Two

Darcy found Mr. Tall near the center of the campsite where the tent for the night's show was being erected. He was giving orders to Cirque workers in his usual calm and quiet tone. He hardly moved his lips when he spoke, but somehow every word came out perfectly clear. Darcy always found Mr. Tall slightly daunting. He towered over everyone and had shiny black eyes that seemed to hold a cavern of dark secrets.

When she told him about Mr. Crepsley being unable to perform in the show, he merely nodded knowingly, and then returned to giving orders.

Evra was behind the show tent, dancing around with his performing snake draped over his bare shoulders. Seeing him wiggle around to imaginary music made Darcy laugh, easing the strain that Gavner Purl's appearance had brought.

"I thought the Cirque didn't usually do their Night Club shows out in the country," Darcy said when she walked up to him.

"We don't," he replied as he swayed from side to side. "I'm just keeping my _groove_ up until next time."

Darcy snorted, shaking her head. Evra grabbed her hand and twirled her about. She giggled, but kept a wary eye on the large snake around his neck.

As Mr. Crepsley promised, Madam Octa's cage and the flute were waiting for her there behind the show tent. She immediately took up the instrument and whistled out a cheery tune while she and her friend continued to dance around. Her black gypsy dress twirled around her knees as she moved to the music. She usually changed into her funeral dress when performing with the Cirque Du Freak, but it was back in Mr. Crepsley's van. She didn't think her vampire master would approve of her showing up, no doubt interrupting his in-depth, secretive, _personal_ discussion with Gavner. Darcy wanted to know what the men were talking about. But she knew her boundaries. Having Mr. Crepsley upset with her _again_ wasn't something she needed right now.

Her gypsy dress would have to do for that night, even though it was a bit more revealing than her funeral dress. But she wasn't worried; she knew that modesty wasn't an issue by the way crowds went crazy over Truska in her tight-fitting costume.

As usual for the Cirque Du Freak, there was a full house in time for the show to begin. Darcy went on after Hans Hands, who exited the stage by walking confidently on his two hands. Even though she was taught to keep a morose expression while performing, on the inside she was glowing with joy and excitement to be back on stage. But what brought her the most joy was seeing audience members scramble to buy the candy spiders during intervention.

After another successful show, Darcy hung around to socialize with the other performers. But her growling tummy made her realize she hadn't eaten any dinner that night, so she left the bright lights and excitement to find a quiet campfire with some food.

She took her time chowing down on a chicken pie while Cirque workers labored late into the night to clean up after the show. Despite it being a rather cool night, especially in her wispy black dress, the crackling fire enveloped her with warmth. People came and went, helping themselves to food and company. Truska passed by once, twiddling her fingers at Darcy with a young man on her arm. He was the same young man the exotic woman frequently invited back to her tent, and it was no question where they were going now.

She just placed her dirty dishes in a bucket full of soapy water when Gavner Purl came to her. He asked her how her night was while he warmed his hands by the fire. The knives at his sides glinted in the light.

"One of these days I'd like to see you perform," he said, giving her one of his broad smiles. "Your, uh . . . master, Larten tells me you seem to enjoy being on stage, he says you're almost as good as he is at the flute."

"_Mr. Crepsley_ said that?" Darcy asked in awe. The vampire master seldom shared his compliments. She wasn't hearing it from his own mouth, but with it coming from Gavner still surprisingly pleased her.

Gavner nodded. He tilted his head sympathetically. "I'm sure you have loads of questions, Darcy." He waved her forward. "Come. Take a walk with me."

He led her away from the warm light of the campfires, taking them towards a forest where the main path resided.

"I prefer to sleep in cool underground basements," he said after a few moments of silence. "There's something about the dank darkness that just . . ." he inhaled deeply, "feels like home."

Darcy laughed softly.

"But even if the Cirque had a basement, I'm afraid I can't stay," he said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I'm a Vampire General. Our lives are always busy, always keeping us on the move."

"What exactly is a Vampire General," Darcy asked curiously. She knew so little about them.

"Ah," he hesitated, probably thinking about how much Mr. Crepsley wanted her to know. "We're like the vampire police. We make sure everyone in the clan stays in line, doesn't get into trouble, like involving humans and such."

"You mentioned that Mr. Crepsley was a Vampire General once, right?"

"He will always be a Vampire General. But he has, however, withdrawn from his responsibilities as one. He was also one of the most respected vampires in the clan. So respected, in fact, he was in line to become one of the Princes."

"A _prince_?" Darcy whispered in amazement.

"Yes, our clan has several Princes and Princesses. Vampire Generals keep the peace, but the Princes always have the final word."

Darcy tried to imagine Mr. Crepsley, severe and serious, in a glittering crown and velvety robes. The thought of it made her giddy. "If he was in line to become a Prince, then why would he suddenly withdraw from his responsibilities?"

"Who knows," Gavner shrugged. "Many men and women would jump at the chance, but . . . maybe he just grew tired of all the fighting and the killing."

Darcy's brows knit together in concern. _Killing_?

Gavner must have noticed her wary expression, because he jumped to say, "I've said too much. Do me a favor and don't tell Larten I've told you. He'll flay me alive if he knew."

"I promise."

"Good girl," he said with relief. "You seem like a fine young woman. I wonder . . ." he hesitated then stopped walking to look down at her. "Are you happy, Darcy Shane?"

She was taken aback by the sudden question. But it made her think. _Was she happy?_

She was content with her life at the Cirque. It had become her home, but she still missed her first home, her _real_ home. Mom, Dad, Annie. She missed her family; she wanted to be wrapped safely in their arms. Sometimes she daydreamed of sneaking away to return to them, but the thought of Mr. Crepsley pursuing her always interrupted these daydreams. She was confident he wouldn't let her get away easily.

Darcy focused back up at Gavner and gave a little shrug. "I'm not unhappy."

"I mean," he elaborated, "are you happy being here? Are you happy being a half-vampire?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "No. I hate being a monster. Because of what I've become, I can't go back to my old life."

"I was afraid of that," Gavner said softly. "The decision to become a vampire is a heavy one. That's why the clan feels it's wrong to blood someone as young as yourself. We prefer to change those who are completely prepared for the tough life ahead of them. It's not easy being a vampire, especially in this world."

"Mr. Crepsley is in trouble with the Vampire Generals, isn't he?"

He sighed with frustration. "He should have never blooded you. It was out-of-character for him to be so irresponsible. He told me the story about how he came to change you, but still . . ."

Darcy asked, "Was that the personal matter you had to talk to him about?"

"No, no, I came to tell him about a rumor I heard," Gavner explained. "It has nothing to do with the Vampire Generals."

She took a deep breath in relief.

"I won't tell you any more about it, though," he said apologetically. "If Larten wishes you to know more, I'll leave it to him to relay it to you."

Darcy glared at the front of Gavner's plain white t-shirt and said bitterly, "That is if he'll ever tell me."

Gavner placed a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up at him, he was smiling kindly.

"The thing you have to realize about Larten Crepsley is that he is a good man. His long and hard life has left him bitter, but you won't acquire a more loyal companion than him." He scratched the deep scar on his chin. "He means well, I know he does. He has his reasons for keeping you in the dark about his past. With time, he may reveal them to you. But for now you need to trust him."

"How can I trust a man who can't even tell me something that happened years ago? Is he afraid I'll tell someone?"

"No," he said slowly. "I don't think that's what frightens him. Perhaps," he hesitated, and then nodded, "You know what? I don't think he's afraid of what others would think. I think he's afraid of what _you'll_ think of him."

"Me?" she repeated softly.

He nodded then waved to her good-bye as he turned to walk down the empty path.

"But why would he care what I think?" she asked herself. Thoughtfully, she watched Gavner leaving. Her mind wondered about her vampire master. He was a mystery.

Then she remembered that one time in his van.

"Hey!" she called out to Gavner who had started to jog his way down the road. When he stopped, she ran over to him. "Hey, I . . . I'm just curious about something."

"Go ahead, and be quick about it. Dawn is approaching."

"I haven't told anyone about this," she said timidly. "I think a part of me wanted to forget about it completely, but . . . Mr. Crepsley did something to me that I think he regrets."

Gavner chuckled, "You mean _other than_ blooding you-"

"He kissed me."

His eyes popped out of his head. He gaped at her and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She nodded, but then gave half a shrug. "At least, I think you could call it 'a kiss.'"

Gavner took a step away and surprised her when he doubled over, roaring with laughter.

"That old dog!" he bellowed, wiping tears from his eyes. When he straightened and saw the utter seriousness on Darcy's face, he coughed back the rest of his laughter and nodded solemnly. "Yes, my dear, I'm sure that was a very, uh . . . traumatizing moment for you." He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, but within seconds he was chuckling uncontrollably again.

She crossed her arms, scowling.

"Listen, Darcy," he said once he calmed down. "You are growing into a beautiful young woman. When men travel alone for as long as Larten has, they gain certain urges." He nodded encouragingly. "You understand where I'm going with this, yes?"

She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"Good. Look, do not worry about it." He started to walk backward. "All Larten needs is a little slap on the wrist now and again and he'll straighten out." He stared off into the distance and laughed softly to himself, as though enjoying an old memory. When he was a good distance away, he focused his eyes back on her and said with amusement, "One day, you should ask him how he got his scar. I think you'll enjoy that story."

Darcy watched as he turned and began to jog down the road. After a minute, he quickened his pace to a run, and before she knew it, he reached flitting speed and was gone.

* * *

There was still an hour or so before dawn when Darcy returned to the Cirque campsite. The workers were more or less finished cleaning up and things were starting the quiet down. Her eyes felt heavy after a long day and she was ready to burrow into her little bed in the van.

She found Mr. Crepsley sitting casually on the lid of his coffin, staring ponderously off into space. She climbed into the van and closed the door behind her.

"Gavner came to see me before he left," she said as she covered herself with her blanket.

He nodded. "I am sure his curiosity for you doubled after speaking with me."

"You two talked a lot about me?" she teased. When he gave her a look, she smirked into the blanket. "I like him. He's nice. It's . . . refreshing."

Mr. Crepsley glared at her. "So . . . how much did he tell you?"

"Huh?" she chirped innocently. "Oh, not much."

"Hm," he grunted.

"He and I discussed some _personal_ matters," she said mockingly.

"Ah," he leaned back, crossing his legs, "and you are wondering about my own personal matter he and I discussed."

She shrugged indifferently, looking away. Taking Gavner's advice to heart, she wasn't going to try to force him to tell her the truth. _Trust_. It was all about _trust_.

Mr. Crepsley stroked the scar along his face in a slow, rhythmic manner. "I was just thinking about my talk with Gavner when you returned." He dropped his hand and looked at her full-on. "I am leaving."

"_What_?" She leaned forward, letting the blanket fall from her body. "You're leaving the Cirque? Why?"

"I must go to the city," he calmly explained. "There is business I must attend to."

"But," she stammered, "what about the Cirque? Mr. Tall? Me . . . does this mean you're leaving me?" There was a small spark inside her, the same spark she felt whenever she daydreamed about running away to her family.

"That is what I am wondering about," he said. "My business may prove to be too dangerous for you to come, but I can imagine needing you at some point. I would prefer you came with me."

"You want me to leave the Cirque?" She couldn't keep the bitter disappointment from her voice. "But . . . I don't want to leave."

"You must. It is your duty as my assistant to be with me when I wish it."

Darcy gripped the blanket angrily in her fists. "I'm _happy_ here, Mr. Crepsley. For the first time in a long time, I'm actually _happy_. You . . . you . . . ," she bundled the blanket around and around, wrinkling it between her white-knuckled fingers. Finally she spat, "You can't make me!"

Mr. Crepsley quickly made for her as though to grab her and Darcy glared up at him with stern resolution. Instead, he sighed and calmly dropped to a knee before her.

"You must know that I never intended to make the Cirque Du Freak our permanent home. I knew that one day we would have to set out on the road again. We are vampires, after all, not circus performers. You may be happy here, but you and I are not like the others at the Cirque."

"But . . ." she whispered, calmer now, "I'll be lonely again if I leave, like I was in the beginning."

He reached to take her hand and she let him. He untangled the blanket from her fingers. The fabric was riddled with wrinkles.

"I know," he said quietly. He looked out the open window over her shoulder. With the dawn approaching, it was almost time to close the shutters to keep out the sunlight. His gaze was blank, but then suddenly, like a light bulb, his eyes lit up. "Maybe . . . yes, I think that would work perfectly."

"What?" she asked and glanced out the window to catch a glimpse of whatever he saw. There were still a few Cirque members milling around, sitting by the fires, chatting softly. A short distance away she spotted Evra walking over to his tent.

"You are good friends with him, are you not?" Mr. Crepsley asked, bringing Darcy's attention back to him.

"Who?" she asked, "Evra? Yeah, we're close."

"How would you like for him to join us?" he proposed. "The boy could keep you company and entertain you while I am asleep. He is slighter older than you and wiser; he could keep an eye on you."

"You mean a _babysitter_?" she coaxed.

"Of sorts," he replied with a mocking smile. "But I know full well nothing could ever keep you from finding trouble."

"I don't _find_ trouble," she said in defense, "trouble finds _me_."

"However way you look at it, I think an addition to our party would be a wise move." He raised his orange eyebrows at her. "So what do you think?"

"I don't know," she hesitated. She loved the idea! But she wasn't sure how Evra would like leaving the Cirque. She imagined he'd be hesitant to leave its comforts behind, like she was. "I'll talk to him about it."

"Very well," he said as he sprung to his feet and opened the coffin. "And I shall speak to Hibernius upon waking tomorrow evening. I plan to be packed and ready to leave within the hour."

She nodded in agreement and reached up to close the shutters. When they were fastened, she burrowed down among her few blankets and pillows with a heavy sigh. She watched through the gloom as Mr. Crepsley climbed into his coffin. Before he closed the lid on himself, she spoke quickly.

"Thank you."

The lid froze a couple inches above the coffin.

"Thank you," she repeated, "for doing this for me." Evra didn't need to come. She knew the vampire master could force her to leave with him if he truly wanted. He was stronger than her. But he _was_ letting Evra come. Because it would make her happy.

Silence hung in the air until she heard the sound of the lid close over the coffin, and nothing more was said.

* * *

"Leave the Cirque!" Evra exclaimed later that day when Darcy told him the plan. He looked shocked at first, but his snake features settled into curiosity. "I don't know," he muttered.

"Please," she begged, "it could be fun. We wouldn't have to get up early every morning to do chores. I could finally get more than a few hours' sleep, _for once_. It'll be in the city, so there will be lots to see and do."

"I've been with the Cirque for most of my life," he mulled over. "It would be interesting to explore a whole city without the pressure of staying close to the campsite all the time."

"It would be like a vacation," she added for encouragement. "We wouldn't be gone long. Mr. Crepsley said we'd return to the Cirque once his business there is done."

Evra narrowed his snake eyes in thought. His light green lips twitched into a quirky smile. "A vacation, huh . . . Yeah, I like the sound of that."

Darcy whooped with excitement and wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he interrupted, pushing her away. "What about my snake?"

"Can you find someone to look after her?"

He paused a moment, then nodded. "I think I could. She's especially easy to handle now with this weather. The cold makes her sleepy."

"Perfect," she sang with excitement. "And I'll find someone to look after Madam Octa."

That proved to be a harder task than she had expected. Few people were keen on taking in one of the world's most poisonous spiders, especially one bigger than the size of her fist.

When Darcy approached Truska with Madam Octa's cage, the woman recoiled and ran away, shouting out in her strange seal language. Remus Twobellies licked his lips hungrily when she came to him. But when he saw exactly what she was carrying, he frowned and waved her away.

Finally, she came to Hans Hands who hesitantly accepted as long as she was okay he never had to open the cage.

Once Madam Octa's living arrangements were settled, Darcy returned to Mr. Crepsley's van to start packing. Her own bag was easy to fill; she only had a couple things including her funeral dress, her fifteenth birthday dress, and a change of shoes. Earlier, Truska gave her some handmade soap that smelled of cinnamon and ginger, and Darcy looked forward to soaking in a warm bathtub somewhere along their journey.

Mr. Crepsley, however, was harder to pack for. Inside his trunk in the van, he had several tailored suits made of deep shades of red and black. The fabrics of his clothes were all vintage and felt rich to the touch. He only had enough room in his pack for two suits, so when she lifted them out of the trunk, she brought them briefly to her nose to make sure which were clean. No matter how many times she washed them, she could never rid his clothes of the smell of the outdoors. Of trees, and grass, and fresh air. The scent of it brought back memories of trekking through the forests during cool evenings.

Darcy settled on each a red and a black suit, folding them carefully and packing them into Mr. Crepsley's bag.

When the vampire master woke later that evening, he seemed distracted. He was still grumpy, as he usually was right after waking, but looked unfocused. He failed to thank her when she handed him his bag, all packed and ready to go. His behavior made her wonder what exactly his business was in the city.

The evening air was nippy. Mr. Crepsley donned a heavier traveling coat and suggested she find warmer clothes as well. When she reminded him that she didn't _have_ any warmer clothes, he paused and sighed, "Then I suppose you and I have some shopping to do."

Darcy warmed to the thought of checking out the department stores once they reached the city.

When ready, they left the van to find Evra. As the three of them walked through the Cirque campsite, people stopped to say goodbye. Darcy tried not to get misty-eyed as she waved to all her friends. Once they were out on the main road, she linked arms with Evra for consolation.

There was to be no flitting on this trip. Mr. Crepsley couldn't carry them both. That was bad news for Darcy. She had been looking forward to a warm bath at some hotel in the city. Being forced to take buses and trains was really going to draw the journey out.

They were hardly five minutes down the road into town when Evra chortled, "Hey. Hey, guys." He elbowed her ribs. "Hey, do you wanna hear a snake joke?"

_Oh god_, Darcy inwardly groaned. It was going to be a _really_ long journey.


End file.
